The ancestors carried swords and shields, axes and determination. They moved mountains with songs and hammers. They ripped the primordial earth from the flesh of giants. They caste their eyes away in favor of wisdom. And their blood flows in me. Upon this earth I walk with heavy steps, heard by the shuddering masses, with the gait of gods. In each loud retort from my gun is the sound of a hammer dropping, and from its teeth comes brutal realizations. Epiphanies belched in fire and change, for I will change this land with my will. I shall carve a new world out of the flesh of giants!
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
