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Exercise In St.
In the stirrups of the milk white steed
I stand
And with legs steady
I see that for which I strive.
Alive I am so out I strike
Guiding giant strides,
Ever vigilant to study
Every tree and stump,
Mindful of the strumpets
Who might offer up strophe
In the middle of my struggle.
I vow to not be stranded
As a stranger
Who lays stretched
Upon his shield of straw.
Nor shall I allow any one to stifle
This journey which is stilted
As the arch within the steeple.
Long will I hold strong
As upon this course I stay
Stanch in statement
And static as a stave
Until from these two stirrups
I stand down and never stagger.
Another excellent write. I loved the ending tone of this. And may we never stagger in our purpose or in our words. :)