The Struggle

In the narrow space of time,
gods and men struggle for peace -
a tear here, a prayer there -
some small trickle of release.

Homer's heroes have all died.
Languid gods turn half away;
and as all the good men know,
evil turns its wicked way.

It fences in the blameless
and bars its rugged door.
The cross is all but useless
as it lies upon the floor.

The outstretched arms of darkness
embrace everything around.
The ocean disk is rolling
in the dirge which it is bound.

The morn shall rise and ripen,
and the sun will shine anew;
and gods and men will struggle
as both gods and men will do.