Un-Sheathed Truth Of An Un-Holstered Youth Poem by Khaldun Atum

Un-Sheathed Truth Of An Un-Holstered Youth



Once upon a midday morning,
The sun rising, the equinox forming,
Hundreds gathered in the temples,
The temples underground, beneath the castles of deepest mourning.  

A man stood and spoke a name,
'Sitka', saith he, 'I have wandered for so long, travelled so far, I a man, a hunter, one many destain. 

'This is my job for you,
Run admits the trees until a city shall come into view,
This city, shalt be surrounded palisades made of trees,
And the city wilted, burns and cries and pleads. 

Your mission here, is to eliminate the king,
For he withholds food and slaughters all beings,
He is a gruesome man, a dangerous fiend,
Beware him, my son, many fights he has seen.'

Sitka speaks now, standing upright,
'I shall not fail, master',
And he flees into the night,
Not a trace of cautiousness nor fright. 

Many days Sitka runs among,
With his blade sheathed and his bow unstrung,
Finally, in the distance smoke hung 
In the air before him, his bow is now strung. 

A day later, he arrives,
The guards dispatched with a few knives,
For bloodshed, he thrives,
The king shall not expect, he shall be surprised. 

Without a sound nor footprint, he enters the city,
More than a building burning, he feels pity,
No time for pathos, no time for tears,
All is left is to find king illiteracy. 

He finds him sleeping, in his castle chamber,
He'll leave no corpse, no remainder,
He draws his blade, it shines in danger,
He slits the king's throat, the blood pours into a for-placed container. 

The blood gone, not a dropp spilled,
He dumps it into the chamber pot, the bucket filled,
A torch he pulls from the wall, with light the room is filled,
He sets fire to the body, of the man he just killed. 

His job done, he leaps from the window,
A story down, he lands gracefully,
He exits the city, nothing but a shadow,
The night air shrill, but his body is full of energy. 

He runs all night, arrives at the temples at dawn,
His mission, the story told, for the world on
The alter of truth, nothing is lied upon,
He is welcomed as a hunter, his ranked well donned. 

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