The night and day that follow pass as he
traverses back toward the city state,
and in this passing time he's come to find
perhaps he's ascertain'd his future now,
for on the overmorrow since he left
his paradise behind, did he conclude
he'll reconvene with Doll and say to her:
"I'm sorry from the depths within mine heart,
and on my life betwixt the Earth and Sky
and by my soul to shred within the Sea, 10
I swear that if thou grant the priv'lege of
the raising of thy child to mine hand
I'll love thy babe as if thiy is mine own—
the Progeny forever I've desir'd—
for though I'm troubled in my mind and am
so unaware if ever shall I heal,
I've learn'd I need to move ahead with life
and let within mine heart the love I've form'd
within myself and those whom I befriend,
which—twixt us two in this scenario— 20
doth mean I love thee just the same as thou'st
already come t'admit to loving me.
I wish to settle down and be around
the ones I love, no longer let to sit
and wallow in remorse and horrid shame
alone except the bottle in my grip.
I wish to raise a fam'ly, growing old
and watch our offspring more aware than we
of th'errors that we made before thir birth,
who'll walk the planet diff'rently from us, 30
perhaps with lighter prints of grace and care
for ev'ry living creature and their ways;
perhaps with deeper marks that change the minds
non-vi'lently of those whom evil'd sow.
I wish to watch—in moments even when
impossible for me to see thim walk—
thir pilgrimage across the ailing Earth,
for though I'd never want for thim to feel
the pains I've felt, thiy'll certainly have need
of meaning in thir life, for which thiy'll have 40
to search, regardless whether that should mean
thiy buys a house a couple streets away
from ours to raise a fam'ly of thir own,
or journeys over desert dunes and dust
in search of places, people thiy may call
new friends, and land on which thiy will begin
a life wherein thiy won't be forc'd to bear
the guilt residing heavy in our hearts.
Regardless where the winding road should take
our Progeny, I want to be the man 50
who readies her with thee and any more
we'll have for what may lie ahead of them
until they're on their own and left the nest,
whereat we'll sit and sip our teas and talk
as always we have done—with popping joints,
however now, and aching backs and hands,
so shaky that we spill upon the rug,
but shouldn't care, for we'll have found our mirth."
These words he thinks whilst walking up the road,
his visage wet with tears and dripping snot. 60
His alcohol is gone; his lips are dry.
He wants to hear his heart again inside,
deciding never shall another sip
of drink to numb his mind invade his lips.
It's with resolve unwavering he walks
by guidance of the moon, though bleary-eyed,
but with his sniffling loud a sound is mask'd
beside the road he'd otherwise have heard,
and so he dothn't turn until too late.
A figure shrouded dark except where light 70
so argent dances on thir cloak and blade,
now lunges from the ditch and drops thir arm
upon our Preacher, now who grabs thir wrist
to redirect the strike successfully
away from jugular, yet still it stabs
a wound so piercing hot into his side
below the ribs, now flaring out in pain
as flesh begins to wail under him
where Torturer was first to leave a mark.
Through darkness, by the glow of Luna's face 80
our Preacher thinks he recognizes this
assailant as the Stranger that he knows,
but knows as well this shade is not the same
as th'one so meek and easy to direct,
for rather is Assassin in control
upon the form the two of them do share,
and by the light of Luna on his blade,
it seems he is his target next to strike.
"Thou shouldst have listen'd to th'advice I gave,"
Assassin spits, "those months ago when I 90
said best for thee to preach and nothing else,
for if hadst thou, it's likely thou wouldst not
have been decipher'd of thine ill intent
upon the polis—found an enemy."
Assassin tries to push the blade inside
to make a deeper mark within his flesh,
but Preacher holds this smaller person's arm
in place so even drawing back cannot
be easily accomplish'd for the man.
Yet still he grinds his teeth. What sort of watch 100
hath he maintain'd to know that Preacher'd left?
Or even to decipher what twas for
in order to determine th'ambush here?
Our Preacher pulls his wrist away; the blade
unsheathes itself, now coated crimson red
upon its tip whilst th'other half of it
still shines with silver light of Luna's glow.
He spreads the fingers of his Glove upon
the chest of his assailant, but doth not
disintegrate the man, but rather he 110
propels him back to fly toward the ditch
and holds his bleeding side with th'other hand.
Then listens he beyond his heavy breath,
but dothn't hear a sound from in the bush.
Perhaps the man was injur'd by the fall
and lies in silence, hiding where he is?
Regardless, Preacher dothn't wish to fight.
"I saw your argent blade endors'd by moon,"
he says instead toward the silent dark.
"I know the path you walk and where it leads. 120
This winding road will always take the ones
who walk it where they most deserve to go.
Be wary where it takes the man who kills,
regardless how the moon should so command,
for you are never guaranteed correct
in judging what she wants for ye to do,
as judgment comes from places deep within
that grow more shrouded from your conscious self
the more you stain their waters with your sin."
He turns away and starts to walk again, 130
though wincing at the pain that bites his flesh
and says one final thing whilst marching on:
"Your life's the choices that you make of it;
don't let an infantile deity
decide for ye how you should spend the time
you have on Earth with duty to a cause,
for there are greater duties that a man
is let t'aspire to when given life.
We're here to do our good; not meet the bad
with bad our own, pretending we pursue 140
the lesser evil, used to justify
the sin that manifests within our hearts.
If you should want to spread the will of Sky,
then don't allow the moon to guide your hand,
for sun and moon are siblings bickering—
unwhole, unable to assess their wants;
it's at the twilight that our Father's one
a briefest moment twixt the dawn and dusk
and dusk and dawn, ere night and also morn.
You let the twilight, far more aged and wise, 150
determine what to do if that's your wish,
and when you listen to the Sky as one
and not asunder twain as you have done,
you'll find—regardless of th'ability
for public speaking currently you have—
you'll learn to preach. You'll learn to spread His will."
Our Preacher carries on toward the cliffs,
toward the city state on th'high plateaus
suspended in a space twixt Earth and Sky,
whereat he hath determin'd shall he fix 160
the love he stifled with his dearest Doll,
and find a way t'resolve th'attacking force
that's set to march. That's set to spread its flame. 163