A thousand willing splinters,

sprung up from the floor.

Hardwood spears into my foot,

(what more could I ask for).

A thousand marbles unfolded,

down King Solomon’s stair.

Dripped into my backpack,

(disguised as I, tattered and bare).

---

A thousand sentient grasshoppers,

in their blue cloaks, waited to greet.

A mob of ravenous paupers,

with bulging eyes, on Whitfield street.

A thousand clouds of black smoke rose,

in a web of lies untold.

∆ While one Forgotten Warrior stood,

Like a wall of Brick and Gold. ∆

---

A thousand rusted gyro-copters,

gently danced in drunken sway.

As endless sharpened seashells,

staring seaward, marched away.

A thousand crooked couriers,

wrought wicked words, inked in red wine

∆ While one Forgotten Warrior stood,

Like Obsidian wrapped in Poison Vine. ∆

---

“Sula Sir - you are my friend! What madness so grips thee?

I would follow you from hell to golden shores of Galilee!”

“Sula Sir - my brother, ho! What hell is in your eye?

I’d give you every drop of soul and leave my spirit dry!”

---

œΩ Leif Dojang Ωœ

https://tonewoodblack.tumblr.com/

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