As IT Were

Behold...

A massive wall falls before thee,
A mile wide and forty scores deep,
Each block is made of solid ore,
From sneering surface to deviled core.

To the left: a dragon with seven heads,
To the right: thirty merchants with fangs of red,
To the rear: sad soldiers with sharpened flutes,
Above: a foot
Below: the roots.

Voices shout from beyond the wall,
Urging forward, urging still,
A spear shoots through my fleshy shawl,
A tear runs swift from out the wound.

An outside light finds its enter,
The oracle raises his mighty lantern,
A ray of hope is slightly centered,
But the wall remains.

Strength runs from my navel down,
Stains the roots and slows me up,
Nerves that ended scream aloud,
And force the heavy handle down,
Down upon a feathered tuft.

A voice hangs on the tips of wind,
And through the pain a moment smiles,
Do I doubt what has been written?
Never, I still hide the vials.

So take from off the ground.
Place me before the mound.
Let me release the sound.
Let me unveil the town.

But wait...

As I sit in the midst of fate,
Surrounded by automatons at Satan's gate,
I know that time will prove to make,
More glorious an impact than rush's rakes,
So I force back up my jilted waist,
Wipe the shit from off my face,
Breathe and smile back at the snakes,
For while their weapons bleed my waste,
And jeers infuriate a vexed estate,
Futile is it for once in play,
Put there eons before this day,
Will all those faces writhe and splay,
Will all those be shamed night and day,
For daring to try and stop His way,
Come seconds sooner than can pray,
The Wall falls down.