The Proclaimed Deity

He stood aloof
In reach of the view
Just far enough to avoid the hoof
Neither conforming to the many - or the few
Shunning the desolate, forlorn of the mood



With each chant of the sired
A wince of pain tore surface
Dismantling the fix of the alabaster
Flashing a look of the Janus
Exposing the depth so well covered
Like the vibrant bellow of the Sicilian bull

With a flick of the needed
A trade made, the inciter of Eden enslaved
Sold into slavery, a democracy in disguise
Hooped by the neck
Yea, to be dragged like Smiddle by the precious
And yet our power to murmur we retain
A reminder of the demise to our power

As the days drag by, the elect flaunts the spoil
His look remains fixed, not lifting a finger to aid
Like a dried gargoyle he becomes
Willing to spew but snubbed at the snout
Bound to just but watch
And see to it that they partake of their fall

With things going dire, hopes go drier
A resolution is made, a scheme split
Bade but to wait, for the cycle to end
And restore us the scepter
The power to slay the nemesis

So, with minds made
And resolutions cast
He hopes that no longer will he stare
At the pain of the sold
The shortness of their resolution
But still his complexion holds
For many a decisions he has witnessed
And an equal count of forfeits

Who is he to judge?
Who is he go opine?
His effect no longer but a smudge
Encrusted on the fabric, mitigated by the student
For once he mastered
And shifted the minds of the subject