Rhagoon Poem by Michael Gale

Who splits the the starry darkened night's shifting shapeless moon?

Who paints the night but one God like artist-Known to ancient man as
Arlo the all seeing being Rahgoon?

This Arlo Rahgoon whom comes down off pedestal'ed air-ic sky
Why did man worship night's death?

Why was he-man?
Doomed to die.

Where went'st his lessened breath? ...
Rahgoon'ly God too soon'ly was to explore Moon's shinning beams.

All was well-as doth lo' seems
Asundered not torn-Held fastly by strongest seams.

Prayer by man-was sent up to a god by all men-well known
Worship'ment sent by forlorn'ed of men-Their fates prewritten as anchor'ed and sewn.

That man, was a hunting fiend whom relied on only himself-be lone
Rahgoon-That ugliest most god high-Would not grant man time for sins-atone.

That selfish man of long ago
Would'st procastinate his time and allow only wasted hours and minutes to show.

That man'ly man would not know, if how to make proper warrior'ed
calls
If he in battle was extremely careless-T'would find himself by many enemies-Minus his own preciouse hallowed balls.