The Bastion's Lament

By: Sybilla Posted on: September 30, 2014

Hoarse cries of carrion birds sing

of Wind's blessings and promised End

to moor at Sapphire shores and bring

the rousing rally to Freedom portend.

But, northerner, have you yet forgot

that this is Ceylon's children's lot?

Masons etched the laws for lawless,

entombed in walls of their own making;

while pirates found a harlot's solace,

and stole a living from the waking.

Is this the shelter of Zarathustran wings

for which deposed was the age of kings?

Salt-crust clings to spattered walls,

and shrouding mist of marshland seeps,

as rushing flow of the Accra falls,

to spill beneath Balaton's deeps.

Know you, plebeian, of your bequest

or do you wander as Ashtan's guest?

While warlords wage for Light's demise,

and discord clouds the demagogues' goal,

when the ember of war glows low and dies,

shall there be merit left to extol?

Wear the sabled cloak, 'neath nescience hide,

but dare you not revolt when gilted eagle is denied.