The Poetry Gripe

The Old and Sweet

I sat by the firepit

Sipping warm tea

The aroma of mint briefly tickled my nose

Continuing on, I smiled

The other man began to speak

Remember back when?

When he found and returned us to glory

Giving us our abilities to change, evolve and grow.

The power over light and darkness

Is there nothing better than being his likeness

Searching through the night

For what is sweet

Always asking for what is me

Listening and learning, always on the turning

Do I find the man to be

Always coming towards me

For now I know we are greater

So we serve but the latter

Of that massive ladder

Old wood stained so bold

That even the warriors of old should be told

That we are coming

Fear not the light

For I seek the simple eye upon which we must stand

Doth death play in our hands

Changing for the world

Evolving into what is swirled

Do I stick my neck out for the folk

Who boast not of his mighty deed

But search out answers in places unseed

I stab and jab trying to grab

The people by the heart

For I know son, this world is strange

But by this place I know we are safe

So sit there enjoying the tea

For he draws near

Yes he does in did

On the horizon does a figure stand

Searching for his comrades

Hand in hand

His dark eyes glance over the tree's

Death incarnate, oh yes please