Billy Grubb at the Gates of Dawn

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Billy Grubb at the Gates of Dawn

In imagination’s swirling shades,
young Billy Grubb dons fabled mask,
battle visor of Aurangzeb,
imbued with Endorvalan magic
that frees of mortal dread the land,
the scorched earth of Ragnamore.
The boy takes hold of mystic blade,
unsheathed, the mighty Blood Drinker,
still disguised as merest twig
yet deadly in its murderous sweep,
He sets forth through the veiléd night,
his course to the ruins of Timora,
Shattered city at the Gates of Dawn.
Through barren plains in darkness robed
and haunted hills with horror laden,
brave Billy keeps the steady pace,
his foot undaunted, his purpose pure.
This journey, laid upon his shoulder,
he holds in sacred, destined trust,
turns not aside through fear or loathing.
As Eastern sky pales in herald of morn,
the bold Sir Billy comes to the Gates
and climbs the heights of Sentinel Mound,
there to hold aloft his sword,
speaks the call to the Gastor Beast.
The heavens, now incarnadine,
illumine coalescent form,
the monstrous Goat recalled to life,
its service to the blade still binding.

That nondescript boy in the second row,
beneath your notice in somnolent class,
is more than the grubby face and hands
you see. Though insignificance he feigns,
that kid without a claim to fame
is rich with a world unseen and yet
his dreams will one day fill the world
with the fame of the writer,
William Grubb.

Line Count: 38
Using Prompt #3
Free Verse