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About this Poem: A personal favorite, I wrote this fantasy-themed poem in 1995. Its a mini-epic, telling a story about the loss of innocence in a harsh world.
azure night sky blindly bred with evil;
The azure night sky blindly bred with evil;
The malignant moon pursued the benign sun.
The stars slowly lost their shyness,
And wrathful foxes fumbled toward their darkened dens.
A mistress of philanthropy, a maiden of nature,
Gracefully strolled toward a bubbling, babbling brook,
Where she sat elegantly, solemnly whispering
To the soft river of life
The thoughts and beliefs that intrigued her,
Comforted her, and , yet, betrayed her.
The beautiful, bubbling brook, as if replying to
The matron's agonizing call,
Leaped and sprung forward with a tiny wave,
Soothing the nymph from her pains and worries.
The maiden sauntered forward,
Her petite feet glided over the placid ground,
Leading her to her destination.
She encroached upon a flourishing flowerbed
Where burgeoning roses and dandelions
Constantly fought for the other's audience;
But this serene moment was soon shattered
By the thundering hooves to the east of this heaven,
Where vociferous vandals ruthless rode toward her.
The young maiden, while gazing at the grand roses,
Gradually directed her head to the incessant cacophony and din,
And soon hereafter dropped soft, delicate petals
To the security of the earth.
To the west, a new foe approached.
Weathered and wanton, they galloped hastily toward her.
In the name of a mighty monarch had they arrived
To pursue, punish, and plunder the contentious thieves.
The two titanic forces rampaged one another,
In a dense blizzard of confusion and chaos,
Causing the staunch safety of the earth to be mangled
And allowing the maiden's innocence to be addled with ambiguity.
She wept and wondered, while bewilderment abruptly dispersed in the air.
The clandestine enigma of this extraordinary scene
Scared, confused, and, yet, soothed the poor, pitiful soul.
After a few flutters of the nymph's gentle eyes
And after a few somber, melancholy tears
Had stumbled down her ashen face,
An accursed, atrocious battle burgeoned;
Butchery, bloodshed, and carnage
Enveloped the sweet ground and engulfed
The maiden's once-infinite love and joy.
The gentle, strolling, whispering stream of peace
Became a gashing, lamenting, crimson river of tragedy;
The salvation of nature ceased,
And the calm of the holy heavens
Altered into an evil of all evils
Plagued by the base ardor for avarice.
The maiden was no more;
A malignancy had harshly embraced her white innocence,
And the matron's true emotions glided off
Along with the defilement of nature
Into a deep and distant abyss. . .
And the malignant moon entombed the benign sun.