A Sword Of The Heavens Did Glean By Chris Green

From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain

Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain

Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free

When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see

The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged

Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged

With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found

Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground

While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square

With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare

When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene

A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean

From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold

Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold

As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game

With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame

Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow

With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow

The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered

When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared

So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign

Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again