Yesteryear Fiction

As It Is
By Ray Miller


Each morning of existence
two armies stand assembled
for an outcome that’s decided
before the horns are blown.

A battle fought on sacred ground
favours those with virtue
and the sheriff has the sunlight
behind him in a showdown.

The names of these warriors
are as lengthy as a sentence;
unfamiliar constructions
await the axe and tumble.

There’s no chance that their quarrel
could be settled round a table
because lessons must be pointed
as javelins impaling.

Does nothing shock or shatter
your transcendental shell?
The gods wag their fingers
yet the sky stands still.


- - -
I could've been a contender.