Walkin on Air

The Enchanted Griffin Folks


Rumblings cascade through the forest so deep,                
Fairy wings stir; silent waters effervesce in fear,                
widowed mothers tremble, in horror weep;                      
Why must they die? Why is death so very near?                  

Pristine glory, its meaning now but drear,                              
empty vapid dreams of esoteric sleep                                    
akin to sardonic homilies that shear                                    
human courage, exposes dearth so deep.                                      

Penultimate chance before final death to keep              
daemons at bay, cynicism to Satan dear                            
shall not deter me: evil will evil reap:                              
my Griffin I conjure; foe, my foe fear!                                    

Defender of the realm, hear people, hear!                            
Your hearts let not in oppression's turbulence steep:        
serene certitude display, think not of yesteryear;        
no longer need parents in horror weep.      
                                                            
The haunted house whence once wicked ghosts would creep              
and clarity obscure, deceivers truth would wear:                                  
false justice to cloak questions with answers cheap.
Why must they die? Why is death so very near?                  

From virtue's quarry our Griffin kinfolks steer          
rawness of grief to memories of joy that seep  
into deepest chambers where a ransom tear    
glistens as the Griffin's headband sapphire  
through the forest so deep.



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The Enchanted Griffin Folks

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