We were safe in our caves, monsters roaring outside, hungry children whimpering, clinging, quaking, teary-eyed. “Don’t worry,” we told them, for the head of the beast is too large to enter and devour us. We are ants unfit for its deep belly feast. Later we’ll make a cage of its bones, capture its young to keep for our own in this realm of dragons and warriors.
The howling jaws of century tore the morning apart, earth movers, smart bombs tracing, rearranging, death, an art, reptilian need to feed, empirical desire to own. Someday they’ll forget and leave us, survival of the fittest, alone. Tanks for our walls, our own bits of sky, we may forget to remember their lies in this realm of warlocks and witches
Let your children’s children know, leave them your deep cutting teeth. Teach them; there is dignity in retreat, a hallowed existence beneath the folds of mediocrity where, unknown, true heroes dwell in that circle drawn before us. Study its spaces until you know them well. The songs of our children are humming, peaceful, living. And drummers drumming in this realm of knights and damsels.
© 2017 artwork, music & words
conceived by & property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner 2017 ©