Minions of the Underground

We follow brave Ahavati as our new Achilles
and we are the Myrmidons;
pressing ever forward
despite the murmurs
and rumours of others.
Our fate is to follow
to press onwards
meeting each day's pressing need.
Words are our spears of ash;
violently striking true
yet cast aside by Time's cruel march,
linguistic prowess
marking each session
overcoming the conflict of inspiration
crashing against our syllabic shields
only to clamour again tomorrow
for our inspiration to run dry
and have us bow low
and expire in that dust.
Yet we refuse,
and stubbornly defy such monsters
stabbing at the Hydra of hate's heads
to carve out our own story
and not give in to such despair.
Though the Minotaur
tests us with endless options
we know our theme
and thwart the labyrinth.
Even the Gorgon
cannot stay our hand
smashing through the block
it creates in our path
writing and proceeding.
Our voices ring clear
no horse lord can make us hoarse
no Trojan trickery
to strike at us underground.
So it is that we face such creatures
as we proceed in competition.