Imprisoned Knight

Listen my brethren and enemies,
what took place in my life I’ve done not for memories,
not for the fame (produced) on media airways;
but for the sake of my devotion,
of a zealous bent, to help the goo, and evil prevent.
Denied the chalice, now to rot in forgotten cave.
It’s cold and windy behind the darkened fence,
The midnight of broken men has long come hence.
Now I can state with grand confidence:
here I’ll live out my days, losing all my sense,
as well as my hair, teeth, and healthy consonants,
never to worry about the rent or payment in dollars or pence.
Aging for me is acknowledging Truth.
Of banishment, lord how discouraging; Pain.
A Burning ember, always annoying. Long lost is reason,
in others toying; life without logic,
simply blood that keeps circling.
For a soul too prideful to stop going.
This isn’t the howl of desperate distress,
it’s the species’ trip back to the wilderness.
More aptly, the first cry of speechlessness.

By Mark Richards, 1986