Your offering has been considered.
You may not be sacrificially killed.
Where once I met a man of steel,
Now I see a flaw.
Where once a gun, a sword or knife,
He has no thing to draw.
His face is lined in years and grief
But blue, ah softly, steely blue!
His eyes are crowned in water’s hue.
Ah, blue, bombardier blue!
This man of Gilead comes nigh
And on his head is sat a hat,
Beside me sits he, and with a sigh
He speaks in voice his father had begat.
“Fools. All Fall, these fools,
While still there is a Beam,
A path to tread, I’ll walk along
And grin, and laugh, and sing.”
This last was bit off, he looked at me.
Blue. His eyes, harpoons struck me there
And all that I could think was:
A hope. A quest, both good and fair!
His chin, hard and stubble strewn,
Was strong, his figure cast a shadow, fell and long.
It twitched, his mouth, a smile shone through;
Ensnared I sat and heard his song-
“The wild will call ‘cross the waste
And you shall answer with your heart.
The land will call for speedy haste
And you will make a questing start!
All felled, these fools, but hear me out!
The Beam is strung along the world!
A strut! Support! A banner loose unfurled!
Join me. Help me. Nay, ne’er whisper, but fearless shout!
Roland o’ Gilead a-questing has gone,
And you could come along.”
Blue. The sea. A craggy face about me swam,
And then he nodded, saw my soul,
Then left that town where I was born;
I went, to quest, to search and to
Roland 'o Gilead am sworn.