Flames of Ivy

 

“Flames of Ivy”

-J.H. Byrd-

Mark what mercurial minds have purloined,

where upon the ivy burns and Hegemon’s sword is adjoined.                                     

Contemplate, forgo, envelop the numinous.

As the learned mind yearns, avail oneself thus.

 

Folly, the downtrodden man,

provoker of the dawn yet again.

A hundred leaves shall ever thee seek

of the one beneath the flames of ivy.

 

Receive them darkly, these crowns of time,

for when it is time for waking, forever are we dreaming.

The sky fastens into evening,

gleaming evermore with each hammer chime. 

                                       

The age-old stones of the walls, who in hemic discovery

have laughed and lived the ranks of celestial deeds.

Matchless they are of time, the unassailable adversary,

where war remains a subsisting entity.

 

Divine countenance, thy name is nature,

whom so bares the manifold omens of retribution,

the cold beggary of wroth, and cyclical hatred.

Our broken limbs ache to shield and restore our absolution.

 

Death is here and the legions remain blind,

pouring hymns upon sullen Earth as the Daemon strides.

Darkness rises, in the silence abides,

so smile upon thy pain, it shall beckon thee with mailed hands.

 

Restless souls, breathe through the torrents and showers,

till thy soils, shoulder thy tools.

Forget not he, who in silent bloom,

began to flower.