Frankish Vision IV: Flourish

To emerge from war,

Scarred

To feel petrifying fear,

Barred

To feel mine life,

Waste

To detest my own,

Face

To be consumed,

Sloth

To be a thief,

Goth

To be a Merovingian,

Lust

To hate where once was none,

Rust

To lose all hope,

Void

To paint the walls black,

Destroyed

To continue this journey,

Rough

To flourish, is to say,

Enough

For I have had my mother hold me and in tears, beg me to live

And I am tired of being held back from hearth I miss

So, enough of this childish nonsense

Enough of this fattening redundence

Break these ashened pillars of apathy

My body painted in the new math of me

My sight, returned

Flourish, the new word

A marriage to my own kingdom

Pax Francorum, forever ringing

Frankish angels, sweetly singing

Frankish angels forever singing

This universe that exists spans the bredth of that which will make you burn

You will be taught to unlearn

I yearn for that which I must learn

To God I go, sword in hand, to Carolingian graves, to make me turn

Amen

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The Frankish Vision IV: Flourish by EmptyPoet, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.