He dips in and out of the flames,
Tempting the fires of fate.
He flies by many names.
And his sight engenders hate.
He feeds upon the spellbound,
Drawn to the lights of the fire.
Called by the name of hellhound
The fate of his passion is dire.
He's there and gone in a flash,
With eyes and teeth that pierce.
You'd be better under the lash,
Than to tangle with one so fierce.
There, with you, by your choosing,
Bonded to you through his fear.
Just as you know that you're losing,
He knows that you'll draw him near.
He preys and eats in the night.
He sleeps in the shadows of day.
You'd be wise to embrace your fright,
For he understands your every way.
He'll gorge himself with your blood,
As he satisfies his great lust.
His virtues come in a flood,
And the strongest of all is trust.
He hovers in watch, as your sleeping.
He knows where you are every hour.
His strength comes from your weeping.
Which he can summons with his Glower.
And I, as an ardent crusader,
Vested with virtue and vision.
Would gladly crush out this raider.
But You would treat Me with derision.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem that needs the poet`s notes