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The Courtier to the Troop
Yeas, my weary warriors of time placed steady with the tread,
As a long day born yet again may come upon your subject brow,
That holds heavy at times the duty of many'a denial to bread,
That warms mortals flesh yet your courage causes them to howl,
Of the the misspent time of attempts to wander by the verge,
In hope of catching a mystery in view, of that no name shall come,
Or the want of coloured skies that are only a good-bye to noonday sun,
That rises in the morn' and gives the common hearts the urge,
To be ready like the soldier, eggs, tea or coffee to some,
To be there and consumed in the hunger that we have become.
But your toil to bring the quiet and silence to the mind,
That the intrusive ways of March and drill are always on the wheel.
And caress the loss of self, through dichotomy sublime,
Does lets rest the soul in all good stead to recognise the feel,
To fight the waste and worry that comes upon a great land,
In disguise of lost and abject pilgrims looking for the home,
Does make a man concealed or such, pour forth what he has owned,
Yet make the measure of release be turned from what you understand,
That perhaps I do my job job quite well, at others I just get on,
And it is not that we complete the task, but keep the right from wrong.
I am certain that I have mentioned -if not strongly implied- that YOU (to me) were always the courtier.
What an image, what a message, what a brilliant idea!
I re-read it over and over and dwelled upon this line "That perhaps I do my job job quite well, at others I just get on, And it is not that we complete the task, but keep the right from wrong," thiking just how pensive this was.
You are indeed correct when you pronounce that we long to have our efforts put here "To be there and consumed in the hunger that we have become."
Thank you for the mention at the end, I was elated!
you are a very powerful writer
but i wonder.. do you come down on the
side of violence?
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