Weapons for the Bold

By Cliff Lake

 

Weapons for the Bold

 

Weapons of the Old Houses languish,

Awaiting their time.

Walled away in timeless chambers,

Hidden from the unwary,

Denied to the unworthy,

Arms meant for the bold hand,

More for the bolder heart.

Forged in the Fires of Anguish,

Not steel,

Not bronze or even gold,

Knife and spear and sword and shield,

Fired strange and wondrous,

And deadly when wielded by the just.

Long ages kept,

Still untouched by tarnish or decay,

Unlocked at need for the last defense,

When all other armament fails,

And need is dire.

For a foe yet lurks unchallenged –

A monster tearing at courage and trust,

A brute savaging empathy and ethos,

Leaving in its wake rot and weak wills.

Still it hides,

Wearing the face of tyrants and bullies,

Of corrupted officials,

And gathering sycophants and quislings

To do its bidding,

Until it may declare itself in the light of day.

Then will the latent spaces open,

Then will the relics shine anew,

Then will the arms hail their champions,

Then will the primordial battle be fought again.

For the dark would reclaim its command,

Banishing light and life,

In a negation of all,

A rule of absence,

A definition of no thing.

Now is not yet that time,

But the beast growls,

It’s hunger echoed in the empty words of tyrants,

Its ravening spoken louder daily,

Its horrors soon unleashed in full.

The weapons of the Old Houses languish,

But not long,

Not long now.

They have awaited their time,

We await ours…

 

Cliff Lake 5/26/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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