“Sibyl’s Mountain”
The view from this mighty mountain is a glorious sight.
Hued emotions well the eyes in remembrance of darker days gone by.
The path to the top of these dreams was long and wrought with fight.
Wasn't long ago I was dwelling with pandemonium and the minions fire.
Imprisoned by the emotive chains of mine enemy.
My hands have been stained with innocent blood.
The blood of mine own conviction.
This sacrificial lamb, in Sanctimonium de Novus.
The mountain moved me to stir.
I spewed, alert from the grave.
No longer would I be this Sanctimonious Slave.
The mountain priestess would seek to plunder my bones.
But a Warrior never dies…he climbs to that pivotal place.
To face the demons right in their faces.
Without so much as the blink of an eye.
Still…still as the night.
The ravens feed my hunger under her moonlight.
Sibyl watches the Warrior’s ways with morose delight.
“How did such a man make it thus far?”
She muses, “This is my mountain.”
Born of deed, it is her right.
But the Warrior was wounded err did she see.
Only defending what was hers.
And of his life on bended knee.
Making the spell cast down to reap his will.
He lay with sword in hand and blue motive ever still.
“Why have you climbed thus shaggy knoll Warrior?
You seek to rob me of my precious gold?!
Have you not heard the stories long been told?!
That to climb to my throne would bring death!!!”
The warrior doth bow his head in silent retreat.
Thus speaking, “Oh Sibyl, your glory is of witness to me.
But Homer lied this is true…many times, I have seen.
I know all too well, the Gods are not finished with me.
My fate rests not in thine hands.”
Rage wouldst boil in the Prophetesses heart.
Saying, “I knew that I should have just smote you.
And right from the start.”
But a Warrior as he, she finds him…a greater reward.
He would protect her from all who would see.
And in battle would be of no small countenance.
“For ‘ere he would stay…on Sibyl’s Mountain.”
©2010 H.A.Irwin,Jr.
Hued emotions well the eyes in remembrance of darker days gone by.
The path to the top of these dreams was long and wrought with fight.
Wasn't long ago I was dwelling with pandemonium and the minions fire.
Imprisoned by the emotive chains of mine enemy.
My hands have been stained with innocent blood.
The blood of mine own conviction.
This sacrificial lamb, in Sanctimonium de Novus.
The mountain moved me to stir.
I spewed, alert from the grave.
No longer would I be this Sanctimonious Slave.
The mountain priestess would seek to plunder my bones.
But a Warrior never dies…he climbs to that pivotal place.
To face the demons right in their faces.
Without so much as the blink of an eye.
Still…still as the night.
The ravens feed my hunger under her moonlight.
Sibyl watches the Warrior’s ways with morose delight.
“How did such a man make it thus far?”
She muses, “This is my mountain.”
Born of deed, it is her right.
But the Warrior was wounded err did she see.
Only defending what was hers.
And of his life on bended knee.
Making the spell cast down to reap his will.
He lay with sword in hand and blue motive ever still.
“Why have you climbed thus shaggy knoll Warrior?
You seek to rob me of my precious gold?!
Have you not heard the stories long been told?!
That to climb to my throne would bring death!!!”
The warrior doth bow his head in silent retreat.
Thus speaking, “Oh Sibyl, your glory is of witness to me.
But Homer lied this is true…many times, I have seen.
I know all too well, the Gods are not finished with me.
My fate rests not in thine hands.”
Rage wouldst boil in the Prophetesses heart.
Saying, “I knew that I should have just smote you.
And right from the start.”
But a Warrior as he, she finds him…a greater reward.
He would protect her from all who would see.
And in battle would be of no small countenance.
“For ‘ere he would stay…on Sibyl’s Mountain.”
©2010 H.A.Irwin,Jr.
illustrated by Barry Windsor Smith
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