Epic Poem: Poets of Life, Part II

Canto 9: Right the Wrong

Canto 9: Right the Wrong

©01-12-2020, Olan L. Smith

The Agent of the Corn sits down where he first remembers,

And ponders his existence. Why he wonders; "Why am I

Brought to this world of insolence, where everything

Is twisted to their own liking, where all follow the

Piper?" The braggart of evil deeds is termed perfect, where

Wickedness claims power, and rides the dark beast into the

Inferno. It has six wings and no brain, it follows its tail

In concentric circles moving down the steps of

The chasm where fire burns everlasting. Come they say,

And more follow, and they cheer, "Great is the King.

He is our redeemer, and he warms our souls and fills our sack

With gold and precious gems." They polish their jaded

Mirrors, they see their faces and only know the spinning

Black beast and its greed; they are truly damned. "What

Is truth, for we make our own truth. We determine

What are the old ways that are found wanting!"

Winds blow over the Agent's head, and he feels the upward

Movement of his soul and he cries out. "I can't restore this

World, Lord, it's lost; right is a smattering of slag tossed about.

The love of God is hollow, all is hopeless." The wind

Hears not his plea, and pulls him up and deposits him

In another realm, much as his experience in the field

Of corn, but he remembers the evilness of the last realm.

He asks, "Why here? It is just another place,

And another evil to eradicate. Humans never learn. They all

Choose evil over good. In the end, I can't save them."