The Raven

[ Bloomsbury– London Late 1800’s ]

I face the rain as it hammers down
on London’s streets.
Ringing off bronzen walking cars,
cascading and arcing off overhead zeppellins
and soaking past my cowl,
past my chain shirt
to skin and bone,
My waiting almost done.
Under my cowl, I withdraw the blessed antimony gun.

It feels warm, always warm and
heated from the inside.
Containing some of the power of heaven
and given to my care to use on nights such as this
when threat from the unholy beyond rises to
lift the sinners and crush the holy.
But not on my watch,
The Raven has never failed
when all else is lost I have prevailed.

There! The light from yonder museum
and I feel the dreadful power from beyond!
Light as the feathers of my cowl I leap up
and climb on silent feet to building roof
there to better view the truth and through
the glass I see a man and something more,
held in place by powers who’s source must be straight from hell.
this is my place,
my time,
my calling.
I pull on The Ravens mask
and leap through steam and rain,
across the street to land lightly yonder.
Time to work gods truth and bring righteous thunder!

Copyright Faramond Frie © 2015

 

 

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