The Eklastic Field

 
Thy skies are getting brighter
Thy wind is getting warmer
Movest Thee forward
Thou Thunder Stormer
Where is Thy Hell
That Thou used to raise?
Soaring low Soaring low
Without any praise
Why doest Thou cry?
Hast not Thou another?
No woman No child
Not even a mother
Thy days are so long
Thy weeks are so sure
No poem or No song
Could give Thee Thy cure
Only the touch of one
Tender and Sweet
Could restore Thy might
And makest sure Thy feet
What will it take to restore Thy might?
And who shall it be to regain Thy sight?
Why asketh me how?
Why asketh me why?
I knoweth not the answer
I say with a sigh
I share in your fate
My once mighty friend
We’ll combat with Evil
From now to the End