Out of rage he rose to smite his brother.
What strength lie your arms?
He is but slave to foolish rulership,
what power have you? I asked?
Out of rage he stared at me
as of one having power of armageddon.
We're all but men lost in the battles of life.
Your brother who is to be strength to your arms
You built your doom,
you've broken your defences,
your woe is upon you!
Can you hear the cold whispers of the wind?
Can you hear the screaming of your brother
from the shallow grave where you buried him?
Behold your foes are come upon you!
Today you shall visit your brother,
you will embrace the path you forced him to lay down.
You will be made even with your brother!
The misery arms with which you smote your brother
is come upon you!
He screamed for mercy,
but to deaf ears heard!
The arms of misery was upon him.
And his end crawled to him
and was swallowed up.
By the works of his hand
the location of his destination was built for Him.
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Comments about this poem (The Even by micheal john )
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