The Birth Land.



I walk this heathen path,

With naught but wind by my side,

And perchance you find me going,

Keep aside, keep aside.

For I take no bard on this journey,

This road is not to be sung about,

But a trail to be failed and found,

By those with the heart to hold the stars.

And so you shall see at the level ground,

Where the heaven and hell are smote down,

With the arms as hard as anvils, 

Of souls sought out to save,

Know this free valley, O witness,

This is the kingdom of the brave.


Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

2 thoughts on “The Birth Land.”

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