Cursed Ivory

 

(for all the giants chained and shackled during a festivity so uncouth and frivolous in this age)

Round and round around a temple
goes four legged monsters and devils on two
a wretched place that knows to sing
tales of old and the ones in yore
in languages forgotten by First Men.

They squirm and turn around in their wells,
they churn up the pots to hold dear
the things they say they hold them together
to shite and wash it white
one with left and the other with right.

Ask them to climb out of their wells
to look beyond the differences and
behold all that’s around with wonder
and they’ll start slowly crucifying you
with sins of the fathers long gone and done

Debts paid and credits all cleared
ask them to stay within their cells
for what takes them to merely look
at things which are at a fine balance
to face their fury like never before.