Poetry

No questions were taken 
from unforgiving sword. 
 
And the dead horse. 
 
A river runs through your body 
defining the wet castles. 
 
You look into the eyes of the invader. 
 
The palace intrigues dig in. 
You cannot meet the princess. 
 
 
The inevitability of war looms large. 
You will finally know that every 
body is mortal. The remains 
are meant for the inconceivable. 
 
The scripture versus a blank 
page are on the collision course.