Hill King’s Mantra.
Spread your wings and feel your fire
burning brightly in your chest.
Know your spirit.
See your power.
Grip the stone on which you rest.
Clear your throat and let your voice call.
Great green mountains,
there your kingdom
rises up to meet your presence
in the early morning light.
Stand and strut fourth proudly
as your arms embrace the thermals.
Run headlong into the sunrise
over hills so high and green.
Great, green mountains
now below you
fine, white mist upon their crowns
Flowing slowly over forests
there to lie upon the downs.
May the greenwood stand immortal
over all that lives and dies,
May the white hot rush of sunlight
Meet the fury in your eyes.
Raise your head and raise your talons
To the bright and hazy sun.
Clear your throat and let your voice call
With my kingdom
I am one.
Adversity.
I’ve seen it on the edge of town,
creeping,
green,
across the ground.
Oozing up
through sidewalk cracks,
gnawing holes
in wicker sacks,
souring high
on warm winds rising,
racing fast
in tunnels deep
it’s stirring in the air we breath
and watching
– waiting –
when we sleep.
Secrets
no man wants to hear,
wonders
many others fear,
winds that raze the widest wall,
a rushing tide that conquers all,
fires fiercer
then my soul,
waters deeper,
roar and roll,
and it lies
beneath these skies.
Outside these doors,
a dragon roars.
Its voice is louder then a siren,
warning of felony
or fate
and those who’ve stood
beneath it’s shadow
Can not help but stare agape.
For no man’s plan
it walks.
For no mans pride
it talks.
It lives for no mans table,
and is Neither fact or fable.
Yet we long for but a glance.
Forsaking peace and quiet
to say we’ve stood beside it,
and at our destiny arrived,
say we’ve seen it,
and survived.
If only for an instant.
(Note; every time one of these poems is read aloud, a dragon will get its wings.)
. . . and before any of you say it, yes –
I am full of crap.
and proud of it.