Shape God

An abiding ash snares its feathered lord;
the first bears shelter, the second shadow.
Darkness thrashes in envy, a callous cord;
life seldom slaughters the serf of gallows.

In sacred wellspring bearing a kingdom,
lowly ancients bargain poison and vice.
A madman need savor his wisdom;
to take lore for sight is a witless price.

Wanderer impaled by most faithless knife
tarnished talons adrift the bleeding red,
from the icy fibers of self-suffered life
our king --- war-maker! all-hater! --- has fed.

In burst fetters terror comes to bite,
and thus conclude the coward's futile plight.