Spoons and Stars

Spoons and Stars

A line in the sand, held hard at the 36th Parallel
at the cliff face the famed and fabled Star Socks
and a troll of unprecedented bitterness and wrath
who blocked the forward and backway unto right.

And Star Socks, who had faced the Right Hand
of the No Man down, now saw the chasm loom,
an abyss of twisted anger, the need to hurt, but
most importantly destroy all who dared to shine.

Poor Star Socks Fox, damned for his own love
of parables, legends, lores kept safe in his stars.
Stars that had damned him to the wrath of him,
this Abyssal Troll, whose hatred was of Darker.

Darker, a plague of doubt and bitterness that
fed on the intrinsic brightness of strong souls,
and Star Socks Fox, time after time, had stood
his ground to protect those of his oddment ilk.

Now, Star stared that Abyssal Troll in the eyes.
Fear was alive on the back of his oversized ears,
but he kept his head, pondered what Lore would
hear the Prayer of the Star Socks Fox at the End.

Errant, Scarab Knight clad in Ishtar blue, spied—
from a nearby pillar of basalt, and took to wing.
There were none nearer, as all had gone to aid
the Wild Dogs who held the Tenebrous Wold.

Star Socks Fox alone, as the Abyssal Troll with
with fingers infected by Darker plague reached
to rip those tarnished stars from the cobalt socks,
and one by one, star by star, lights began to die.

Yet Star Socks Fox knew that to bite at the beast
would only hasten his own doom by way of more
Darker plague infecting more of his precious stars
if he were to strike out at the source of the Monger.

Good Errant flew as fast as his wings could beat—
to find his beloved Tribal Queen, the old Lioness,
Spoon, for she alone held the knowledge needed
to stop the Abyssal Troll and control the Darker.