James Deschain

The Beast And It's Blade

It lumbered forth with giants force,
That great momentous thing
To take it back, what it had lacked
And slowly spread its wing.

And darkness fell to all below
Its mighty shadow dark,
Its limbs wide spread, it filled with dread
All who saw its mark.

It stood and stretched to wait for it
What it was wont to have:
That shining blade, keen edge well made
Engraved with the Golden Calf

Its use, a sentence to damnation
twas the bane of many things,
Its power, to bring down nations
A curse on the heads of kings

The protector of the sword rode out
For He would not allow
His faithful peoples to be conquered
By monsters fell and proud.

The sinful sword of sinful make
Held in his holy fist.
He told the beast, “upon my life,
This sword you’ll never get.”

The beast, hells spawn, knew not his own demise.
Its death by blessed hands,
For the knight with his God stood tall
‘till the beast to hell did fall
and was bound in iron bands.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Poem Edited: Thursday, February 17, 2011

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