Thursday, February 11, 2016

Childe Harry's Pilgrimage


In tempestuous time with beloved line forgot,
His bed cast out alone, rid in angry sorrow,
Safety's peace from fallen clouds he bought
As if goodness' heart he could borrow!
In shorted days ill traded for a fool's false morrow;
He cries out for life from an open grave:
A pilgrimage to Kilimanjaro;
In prayer the setting sun he hopes to save,
Hell's kitchen the promise of a knightly knave.

Some sojourns a request, but this trip tis compelled,
"Urging, searching, burning for a place where I not be!
"Ancient mountain trees by runt madmen here been felled,
"This sight my hungered eyes are left to see,
"But in reflecting waters none can hide, 'specially me;
"I stand without mother, father, son or brother."
Movement ahoy! Direction's freedom is the open sea,
Dishonest broker travels undercover,
For truth's claiming seeking only of the other.

First hurdle of the waves, the fabled siren's call:
Cash in the losing hand upon craggy, doom-licked rock,
"How strange I find wisdom in the lust to take this fall!"
Yet favor perseveres to find safe port for stiffened cock,
On ship's futile forage who could blame his love to lock?
Yet ruthless time melts Man's will in useless savage rot;
Hands reach 'cross the bow to grab lost seconds from the clock,
If silence be his savior then his options naught,
A siren's call he did not want yet found t'was what he sought!

She sings to me as if I've lived and slayed a dragon through,
As hero of her heart of this idol to make her plea;
Childe thought however false her words: Who else makes song for you?
"Will you go to war for me? Will you be my whore for me?
"If lost on fields of battle I'd mourn thee for eternity!"
Worshiped like the shining sun if from death I do not cower;
"But if thee's choice is life a thousand sisters' curse you'll flee!"
Her face once lovely wrinkles grey in ire's shriveling sour,
Disdain the erstwhile hero! His journey's peace labeled a coward.


Stabbed in heart and soul, Childe must find the holy shore;
"Is my hope mirage, born of conned imagination?
"Is my quest folly, a proof of world wicked more,
"Doomed to toil in hell from which there's no vacation?
"Be love under God's spell to mend my poor relation?"
This prisoner of the waves longs for freedom's land,
His search mocked by rotters, winners cast insinuation;
Foolish monks in frenzied fear untouched by loving hand;
Child Harry keeps his dreams though his voyage nearly damned.

Succored by an isle, he hears welcoming warm voice,
"'All for one and one for all' is our certain Policy!
"Each must succeed for life to chart a living choice."
A magic word for Childe, to hear of Certainty!
"My name is Childe Harry, a person of Rain Tree."
Angry judges mumbled, then: "He's a weatherist!
"What of snow, sleet, nay even drought - all too good for thee?"
Shocked by gotcha politic where innocence is dissed,
Left floating down dream's stream, this Childe is sorely pissed!

Ripping hole within his soul, "What life will I acquire?"
Worrier of woe who claims its foe hails Childe for nifty save;
"But love is beyond my fortune's grasp, my predicament too dire."
"Fear not, my friend, love's yet at hand when ye's fortune she does crave!
"She'll follow to the ends of earth, from bedroom to the grave."
"But merchant's promise I did try filled my hole with brackish gloom."
Worldly wealth's unceasing masters to their treasure be a slave;
"A simile from Emilie be Heaven's true silver spoon."
Death becomes the soul when chasing pyrrhic profit's doom.

In pilgrimage to holy mount Childe Harry errs upon his path;
Yes, he stayed true to what he knew but none to ventures new;
In the ranks of criminally free unbearable is God's wrath;
A thousand reasons to lie yet no advocate speaks true,
"Why is it what I want, is what I never do?"
In deception's hell fools wander in sapping desert heat;
Claiming victory in life without a fucking clue;
From singeing sands love's victims crawl dying at Childe's feet,
Charring desert winds, timeless, ever absent defeat.


Snow capped mount guards its truth in taunting holy bet;
"Winged eagle soars where I must climb with all my might!"
But to Childe Harry's lament he need pay his moral debt.
Risking life and limb he lumbers to cleanse his spirit's plight;
His trust is torture's chamber to find a safe respite;
"To reveal my true worth I must travel sans companion."
But do travails save his soul - or gives meaningless frostbite?
"Do I not do unmerciful gods' life rules demandin'?"
But standing at the top, hope is still an impassable canyon.

"With this permanence of woe, what scoundrel says this too will pass?"
Misguided in perception, "Assuming of the gods I was blind too bold."
Giving up his solo sojourn, suddenly appears a prayed-for lass.
In footsteps of love, in trust to Childe she hands flower bud to hold.
Walking in son's lasting light, rejoice as real this dream unfold?
Having never held love's gift before, Childe had been quick to moralize;
Sweet heaven flower's bud - then fear! "In light it's me they do behold!"
Brave Childe while in darkness never himself to see or realize;
Looking back running, lovers' silhouettes as morning sun slow rise.

On land on sea, above below the ground, Childe runs without refuge;
Hunted by blessed light's time, flower girl's face branded on his mind;
For cherished rest a forbidden stop lest countless troubles deluge;
"How long can I keep this up? What is left for a fool to find?"
Doubt came to Childe this need to make a run. "Tis liars left behind!"
Too late he embraces back to loving arms, to empty shattered dream;
She moved to paired salvation, to discover one is kind.
Diminished by the day, Childe driven writes of what he's seen;
In Boolean dilemma, without worthy love he walks obscene.

"If every voice spoke truly from every mountain top,
"Fear's grip would fade away, crushed till end of time!
"In immaculate deception we fight wars we'd love to stop;
"Lies spoken, love unspoken, genesis of all committed crime;
"Mock me in this tale laboring under meter and tyrant rhyme;
"I, Childe Harry, am broken, fretting in constant consternation;
"I must still yet find my way but Judas missed the saving sign;
"Inescapable the soul's pilgrimage ending in revelation;
"Wanderers of the world, though erred, yet craving love's destination."

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