Birth Of Our Savior
© Surazeus
2015 12 25
What tree is this that from my broken heart
stretches frail arms of aching sorrow high
to blazing stars that drip rain on my face
which smears my soul in mud of empty road?
Far from my home of cider on warm hearth
I flee from tearing whip that rips my breast
with stinging wrath when bearded father howls
and tries to fill my eyes with hot disgust.
He grabbed my hips and pushed my trembling face
against wood wall, but I squirmed free and snatched
brand of flames, then set gin-soaked cloak on fire
and now our home burns hot in cold black night.
Bright star that gleams through swirling clouds of snow,
guide my trembling steps through forest of oaks
that stretch claws of hate to tear at my face
so I find safe haven where apples bloom.
Sweet clanging bells at midnight call my name
and spark my heart with hope, so from cold mud
I rise and trudge to ancient tower of stone
and clutch locked door with bleeding hands of fear.
White flash of warm light blinds my blinking eyes
and three old wrinkled monks with mossy beards
lead me in dry chapel from pouring rain
and wrap me warm by crackling fire of love.
Soft voices echo far in hall of stone
when three monks chant heart-swelling hymn of peace
and hang sparkling gems on sweet-scented pine
that flash clear visions of flowers and lambs.
What spirit moves within my aching heart
and claws its way from womb of my despair
when scream of horror tears from bleeding heart
and child of my father falls from my womb?
I drift exhausted in abyss of pain
and stare at stars twinkling from purple rain
as baby suckles sweet milk from my breast
and icicles pierce through my throbbing heart.
Bright blue eyes stare in my infinite soul
and I become hills where ancient oaks grow
for roots of hunger curl through trembling limbs
that pulse with hot blood of loving despair.
Son of my flesh, God sired your soul in me,
wild bearded warrior who ruled all this land,
so wield his sword that hacks off heads of men
and wear his crown of gold sun-beaming rays.
Each man who leaps from shadows of despair
runs swift to thrust spear of hate in your heart
so swing wide sword, sharpened on stone of honor,
and hack their bodies into slabs of meat.
Follow me close as we run through dark woods,
gathering herbs and chasing boar to roast,
then leap over stones as we race toward gate
and feast all night under stars of desire.
Gather lost wolf men in forest of fear
and lead them howling into ring of stones
and hack off head of your uncle who rules
on your throne, and crown yourself king of all.
Blow horn of salvation mid-winter day
and gather forest tribes in ring of stones
to dance and feast on this day you were born
so they may celebrate birth of our savior.
You wield shining sword of judgment and death
to rule as God over wild land of mist
from heart of island world in ring of stones,
preserving peace and good will toward all men.
One day you will die and your body rot to mud,
so impregnate young virgin with your soul
and she will birth your son in new-born child
who will reign as God long after you die.
Gather close in ring of stone, boys and girls,
on mid-winter night when snow flakes fall white,
and attend birth of our savior and God
who preserves soul of our king in new child.
Hush now on this silent and holy night
and kneel before yon virgin and boy child,
then pledge fealty to our new-born king
for he is God returned to Earth in flesh.
Son of my womb, I raised you to wield sword
of death so you may preserve life on Earth,
so now raise your son to reign in your stead
and sing to celebrate birth of our savior.
I lived a long and painful life of fear
but now at least in peaceful joy I rest
to see my grandson born from holy womb
so you may rule Island of Avalon.
Though I sink into darkness of mute death
I go with joy as young girls and boys sing
sweet hymns to celebrate birth of our savior
that lift me high to twinkling stars of love.
© Surazeus
2015 12 25
What tree is this that from my broken heart
stretches frail arms of aching sorrow high
to blazing stars that drip rain on my face
which smears my soul in mud of empty road?
Far from my home of cider on warm hearth
I flee from tearing whip that rips my breast
with stinging wrath when bearded father howls
and tries to fill my eyes with hot disgust.
He grabbed my hips and pushed my trembling face
against wood wall, but I squirmed free and snatched
brand of flames, then set gin-soaked cloak on fire
and now our home burns hot in cold black night.
Bright star that gleams through swirling clouds of snow,
guide my trembling steps through forest of oaks
that stretch claws of hate to tear at my face
so I find safe haven where apples bloom.
Sweet clanging bells at midnight call my name
and spark my heart with hope, so from cold mud
I rise and trudge to ancient tower of stone
and clutch locked door with bleeding hands of fear.
White flash of warm light blinds my blinking eyes
and three old wrinkled monks with mossy beards
lead me in dry chapel from pouring rain
and wrap me warm by crackling fire of love.
Soft voices echo far in hall of stone
when three monks chant heart-swelling hymn of peace
and hang sparkling gems on sweet-scented pine
that flash clear visions of flowers and lambs.
What spirit moves within my aching heart
and claws its way from womb of my despair
when scream of horror tears from bleeding heart
and child of my father falls from my womb?
I drift exhausted in abyss of pain
and stare at stars twinkling from purple rain
as baby suckles sweet milk from my breast
and icicles pierce through my throbbing heart.
Bright blue eyes stare in my infinite soul
and I become hills where ancient oaks grow
for roots of hunger curl through trembling limbs
that pulse with hot blood of loving despair.
Son of my flesh, God sired your soul in me,
wild bearded warrior who ruled all this land,
so wield his sword that hacks off heads of men
and wear his crown of gold sun-beaming rays.
Each man who leaps from shadows of despair
runs swift to thrust spear of hate in your heart
so swing wide sword, sharpened on stone of honor,
and hack their bodies into slabs of meat.
Follow me close as we run through dark woods,
gathering herbs and chasing boar to roast,
then leap over stones as we race toward gate
and feast all night under stars of desire.
Gather lost wolf men in forest of fear
and lead them howling into ring of stones
and hack off head of your uncle who rules
on your throne, and crown yourself king of all.
Blow horn of salvation mid-winter day
and gather forest tribes in ring of stones
to dance and feast on this day you were born
so they may celebrate birth of our savior.
You wield shining sword of judgment and death
to rule as God over wild land of mist
from heart of island world in ring of stones,
preserving peace and good will toward all men.
One day you will die and your body rot to mud,
so impregnate young virgin with your soul
and she will birth your son in new-born child
who will reign as God long after you die.
Gather close in ring of stone, boys and girls,
on mid-winter night when snow flakes fall white,
and attend birth of our savior and God
who preserves soul of our king in new child.
Hush now on this silent and holy night
and kneel before yon virgin and boy child,
then pledge fealty to our new-born king
for he is God returned to Earth in flesh.
Son of my womb, I raised you to wield sword
of death so you may preserve life on Earth,
so now raise your son to reign in your stead
and sing to celebrate birth of our savior.
I lived a long and painful life of fear
but now at least in peaceful joy I rest
to see my grandson born from holy womb
so you may rule Island of Avalon.
Though I sink into darkness of mute death
I go with joy as young girls and boys sing
sweet hymns to celebrate birth of our savior
that lift me high to twinkling stars of love.
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