Self Doubt Gallows (day 2417)

I held my hand out to the sky
An act of bold courage
Asking for the strength within;
It was to me as clear
As the sky I reached towards
Already upon my breast
Telling me what little I knew
What steps I had begun
More sternly though
What steps I had to go.
So I clenched my fist down
Emancipated at once
From the gallows of self doubt.

Sentence to Thy Name (day 1229)

Allowing punishment to crush ritual
Berating better senses of civility
Harshly, against cold stone under foot
Upon a wet and soggy day of death
Smeared between dark moist earth
And trampled, unkept grassy shag
This is not the end of an era
Nor end to a life spent well
It is the beginning of torture
Souls repentance; realization
Destruction on the darkest day of life
Standing, dripping, begging at the gates
Hallowed be thy name as birthright
Non-linear thus be thy path towards thee gallows
Distrust be cruelly written across thy brow
Hastily, uneven, unsymmetric, unceremoniously
Where shaggy be thy mane
Dies the sentence to thy name

Old English Accent (day 782)

It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:

Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown

And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew

North Thompson Field of Hay