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by RJKT Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1019697
Just a fable on War , Conquest and Empire.
The High Altar.. the very pinnacle of Empire-
an incandescent blaze,
impaled in the glare of a million beams.
Beneath it - the Anointed One –
rapt ... utterly still …

Then -
swifter than lightning,
he whirls from the Altar -
in that instant- the whole world falls hushed.
Body all a-quiver ,
eyes hard as gimlets,
his mailed fist swings up to the skies.
In a voice dark with thunder ,
he flings down the gauntlet-
and the echoes resound
to the ends of the earth:

‘A Holy Crusade to vanquish the infidel hordes!
Our One True Sword shall smash a million scimitars!
Our Holy Cross shall prevail forever !.
And Democracy - our true and living gospel
shall reign supreme- for ever and ever..!”

The Chosen People ,
Keepers of the Divine Flame –
Beloved of God -and Blessed by Mammon-
rally to this clarion call from on high.
Their ‘heils’ resound, rending the skies,
making the very heavens tremble.

Huddled beyond the pale,
the poor,downtrodden millions-
in utter terror quailing -
wait for the axe to fall ...

The streets of Empire reverberate
to the tramp of marching legions-
battle standards held aloft,
flags whipping in the breeze-
yet again.

The flower of the youth of Empire-
trained to kill and give no quarter,
gripped by a raging thirst for action,
seized by a crazed lust for blood-
strut down to their ships .

The awesome armada of Empire,
slices through towering billows ,
relentlessly bearing down
upon the ancient lands,
a world away -
where the millions cower -
numbed beyond terror,
the only prayer on their lips -
a prayer for the dying...

...Grieving through His Infinite Agony,
The Christ whispers from the Cross -
“ Father forgive them
for they know not what they do..”

…………………….

O Anointed One - where is the glory ,
the sanctity -
nay -
the nobility of your Crusade ?

In the name of your God,
your armies-
the mightest yet in the annals of Man-
unleash the furies of Armageddon,
on a people ..
so utterly defenseless , so forsaken.

Your monstrous leviathans crush
and grind into dust
all that lies within their path -
ravaging ... despoiling..
laying waste an ancient land.

Your paladins,
soaring the skies above-
whoop through chandelles ,
whirl through Immelmans,
as the missiles they fire strike home-
blasting cities .. towns ... hamlets -
to smithereens-
reducing all to cinder and shards.

Carnage
savage and brutal -
horrific, beyond measure-
has been wreaked on
the aged .. the infirm .. the innocent

Bodies ,in their thousands,
lie strewn about the land.
Their life blood -
gushing forth in cataracts,
surging over in torrents-
steeps the blasted earth
to its very core.

Each drop of oil,
O Anointed One,
that your Empire drains out-
shall henceforth be forever stained
with the blood of these glorious martyrs.

...In His Infinite Compassion
The Christ murmurs to the broken bodies
of the hundred thousand innocents ,
lying limp and lifeless
at the foot of His Cross-
“ ..this night you shall be with me
in Paradise.”


……………………

Crosses in their thousands ,
with the lashed .. bleeding bodies
of the condemned ,
nailed to each-
line the Imperial Way to the hill,
that crowns the City of Gold.

Sybarites-
each more richly caparisoned than the rest,
cavort in gay ,depraved abandon ,
lurching and swaying ,around the crosses -
their gold-flecked tresses
flaying
the feet of the condemned.

At his high altar,
on the hill
The Anointed One stands-

Elated ...transported ... rapturous ..
he gazes at his Chosen Ones-
thronging the concourse
far beneath.

Waves of thunderous applause
surge towards him-
ripped from a million throats-
all frenetically cheering as one.

Supreme -
in his moment of triumph,
he raises his hands to the heavens-
in a flash , the vast crowds
fall hushed and silent.

“Our Father ,” he intones , “Who art in Heaven…
….Thy Will be done.”

... Before His open sepulchre
wreathed in Glory and Majesty,
The Risen Christ stands...
Yet, wracked by boundless Sorrow ,
He draws back -
whispering -
ever so tenderly ...lovingly,
the words immortal :
“ Noli Me Tangere”


Whirling through the dark immensities,
the little planet-
that an instant before,
had been hued an exquisite cerulean-
flecked by delicate wisps of white –
flares ...brighter than a thousand suns.


…Wasn't the War - wondrous
Wasn't the Carnage - cathartic
Wasn't the Savagery - oh so Sublime...
© Copyright 2005 RJKT (rjkt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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