A Divine Wind

An entry to Writer's Cramp

They're coming, the guard proclaimed,
To Go-Uda's back,
Then hesitant, ashamed,
We'll fight, but troops we lack.

The emp'ror spoke, eyes looking out to sea,
"The priests are in their temples, their voices raised in prayer,
To the gods they're making
one last desperate plea,
But I don't expect an answer, for nobody's there."

High up in the heavens,
Hachiman looking down,
Heard the emp'ror's words,
And slowly starts to frown.

I'll show them all, the god decreed,
My vengeance, a work of art,
A wind so foul, that they'll recede,
Blown far away
on one godly fart!