Gord

2023-03-29 05:31 am

Swordsman, go home!
Forests shall be no more,
Our taste for war is gone,
Favoured trees have grown.
Nobles shall be no more,
No new kings be proclaimed,
Of all her princes, gone,
Her world led astray.

Open doors, open forms,
Cold, Enourmous castles,
Forts, or formal courtyards.
Informal castes, people,
Making walls, floors, or ceilings.
It matters where you stand, to the boards.

Suppose also, toward unknown,
Battlefields always need a war,
Despite reform, broken bones,
Foreign loans, foreign ownership,
Moral codes or mortal blows.
For it heeds no appeal,
Not even for their souls.

Dinner for four, e un quarto
However, foremost, they see trolls.
A photo's floorboards, reasons for war.
Yet they sit aside and hope for resolve,
Fear in their heart they hope to ignore.