Cyclops II

CYCLOPS In the fallows of my banishment, I saw a people from afar, Heard their footsteps on fast moving clouds of ripples in the air. From what I could obtain from their plight; A loud and brash lot, With braggarts and flex. I was less than impressed by what I had seen, I don't mean to be mean, But the over~posturing was clear, What they really did alone ~ was indulge in the flesh. They would quickly pick up what took their fancy, And fancy was everything passing the landscape. They harnessed animals to entertain, Made great shows of bluff to covert fame, Over-stated their welcome in awe's mind, And in so doing tempted Devils to their side. For the wolves and worries they called upon, Were making manifest in physical form, It was these thoughts that preceded my banishment and I angered he that made it so, My father; The King. Of all the worst offender, For everything did tempt him, To temptation he did surrender, And with glee did bite the apple of desire, The Gods had enough of all this mischief and dalliance, Time to send a shudder to their temple. For all their bluster, show and muscle, Not a single warrior of theirs could strike the air and make the winds blow, And such a strike was all that could protect their home. All hope was lost, For they did not prepare for what, The worst that legends had in store, Just like the rich who think they never will be poor, So too the heroes that with padded shirts and empty cries, Bellowed heartless to the skies, Victory was not on their side. Barely could drag a sword beside, All hunched their strength and roses padded gardens where they trenched, Real swordsman knew it was a sorry sight, For they had never matched a real sword not once, nor twice, For then this third time would have better been struck, And found its landing with better luck. For when the excitement of the crowd had washed away, The magic tricks and gimmicks of the showman's play, Pretending was their only way. The exhibitions had set the stage, For falling Cyclops fists with rage. Regret now laid upon their heads for all the days they laid in bed, And did not lift weight nor sword nor work to make their bread. There was one left the King did mumble with regret, "My Son." The prophecy was set. We must first find where he lays, Likely in rags once white now grey, In foreign lands where fog to the light decays, He will stand in the summons that we make. I heard through rocks and fallow thoughts, they said in narrow hope, For me to rise again ~ in now their shame, To bring my scope and sway, To battle the cyclops this day. I walked through the fields and the hay, For days and days on the dregs of my banishment, Through fog and grey. Until I heard the clopping hooves of cavalry, Metal and stone now made the way, The old familiar pathway. Word did travel I had returned, And the court surrounded me in turn, I received their usual curses; Hurled at me, I spoke from the worst of them of course. My father scowled ~ then bellowed; "The young man has suffered greatly, He's learned his lessons enough, From what I'd say." "What is it that you want, I need you approval not, Not least the sounds coming out of your mouth make any sense to me, I am the wretch on the receiving end." "We need your talent at last, The Prodigal Son returns ~ it seems." "Me? You need I who was banished? I that was cursed and must now vanish? Unworthy of your eyes, your thoughts, your gifts of language?" "Yes, yes." "Oh how things do change, The world it turns and legends they are made, How strange. Did you predict, All your heirs with all their gifts, Could not swing the fatal sword, nor weapons they could lift? Well thanks for your attention how nice, So what ~ I take out the cyclops for you, Is that right?" "A bounty of gold ~ for you." "At last." "A castle of your own." "And a throne?" "Fine." "Bring me the sword you know is mine." I've trained for years to fight, At last it comes to use, And it's my sword they choose. When I first saw the beast, It did not bring me too my knees, I was not as impressed by its size, Perhaps my peers were less wise, I knew this blade I held, Was the reckoning, As I stared into its eye. The beast had hands of mallets, Arms so solid that they were trunks, But in the face of my faith, Standing forceful ~ it could not. Now it seems the banished has made good upon his word. Now it seems the court and King in humility have heard. No doubt it seems in this world, couldn't knock this bird from its perch. Glory and the bounty, is now counted by the Son's own worth, Protected are the people and the creatures of this earth.