A Mortal Wound

A Mortal Wound

A Poem of the Autumn Equinox and Michaelmas
By Muninn’s Kiss

The Horned Child rises ever strong,
Like a mighty angel with a sword of steel,
He ventures forth in search of prey,
Looking for a Serpent with feathered wings,
He finds him then, near end of life,
The Winged Serpent weak, while the Child is strong,
He stalks his prey desiring the kill,
He takes his time for the hour is nigh,
In the early snow, he finds the trail,
The autumn’s chill soon slows the snake,
The Child approached, so full of faith,
Of how this will end, of what’s at stake,
He raises his sword and makes the blow,
A mortal wound that can’t be healed,
But the time is short, and has not come,
The Wounded Serpent does get away,
The Child was wrong, the death wasn’t sure,
But he trudges one, still on the trail.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s