Sparrowlark
Stones are cold to sleep upon,
but compare what to this when your home is gone.
A mother once singing but long since silenced,
my father also taken stolen by death’s sirens.
Liberated by those who claim themselves kin,
beaten, broken and trained by those of darkest sin.
A cold blade thrown towards our enemies like and arrow,
shown a different path and renamed the ‘Sparrow’
Treading a path that most would think seem black and white,
but nought a thing exists to a bird that must fight or take flight.
Building the tools to save Millennium’s souls,
one step closer to the flock’s aims and goals.
When darkness falls, the flock will descend.
Where evil dwells, the owl will tend.
The Raven soars and the Boy of Night flies,
the Hawk leads forward unto evil’s demise.
The story seldom ends for the builder of the arrow,
a former shadow renounced of his face, now a Lark and Sparrow
Copyright © Oliver Liore | Year Posted 2014
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