Airhead Poem by mifael llauderes

And next to none did he stand tall
Beguiled, the people milled to see
With prowess, might and brawny all
Akin to gods of chivalry

And every word he gristly says
Would cast a spell on them who hear
A source of strength for true allies
Whilst weakens enemies with fear

Muscled arms and stony middle
A stomp that drives away the lions
He beats his chest with pride and guile
He roars and fills the far horizons

One day he held from dusk to dusk
To mock the days and nights, ‘til thunder
Grew upset so lightning struck
The poor man’s skull is put asunder

Dazed he braced to summon all
The gallantry beneath his skin
Alas what came were million pores
In chorus wailing cries of pain

And in no time they crumbled down
The flesh and might, the pride and bones
Into a cone of ash and blown
Scattered far into unknown

The air since then is getting clear
The clime grew fine began from here
And not a trace was ever found
The rains have lapped it off the ground