Conquest of Third’s Bend

A personal adventure poem based on a factual night.

Giant masses seem to turn

As ancient rotting buildings burn

Where the bull grazes in the fern

Shocking the weight that destroys

Hazing memories fall underneath

Sweating inside on prancing feet

Analyzed probing eye sights meet

Where the calm begins to deploy

Shaking the faith that subsides

Raging the tumult on the rise

Then they throw out common strides

Taking the rhythm to annoy

Then the hawk screeches down

Bringing solace up from the ground

Glaring gazes question a sound

Then the fire begins to ignite

Sleeping anchors are sent to bed

Subtly drifting upon the dread

Stunning mysteries within the lead

Knowledge of a growing night

Glooming phases now enter here

Sword unsheathing, crowd to bare

Climbing toward the cowards there

A pounce ready, bound to fight

Dying down from the clock in motion

Heaven opens the concealed ocean

Parting lips waiting for the notion

To take what is mine, that in conclusion