Claíomh Solais

Embalmed in the formal hides of man

a light takes refuge

a fallout shelter
composed of the fragile bones
of death
as a cosmic clock
ticks down
to the next bombing
of the mind
everlasting assaults
whip the conscious
into line
events foreseen
yet never predicted
can cause a sane man to feel demented
a pick axe chips at Excalibur’s rock
will darkness smother
before the sword is drawn?