On Rode The Valiant
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On Rode the Valiant

Through the gates of Absalom,
steed and gate did ride,
charging fast and furious
o'er centuries gone by;
peace did shout in vain,
the Lidless Prophets...
must come again,
nigh is the evening sky
but full of hope

The ramparts held fast, ballast and beam,
cannon-fire bombasting flesh and bone,
groans of death ---
such dreary breath!
of decay centuries old

The Rose of all that is Earth,
her petals unsheathed,
torn for time ---
tear and antiquity ---
her red sheen lilts in the new day sun,
begging for Love, she asks:

Shall they come?


© Keith O.J. Hunt . All Rights Reserved.


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