By: Hunter Christian
Could solace from the infernal affliction rely on an internally
afflicted man;
whom wade wildly into wilder flames,
shuffling kindling aside with shovel-like hands,
while sap from evergreens flowed like syrup,
amongst the maples whose syrup rendered the pine trees
envious,
and the underbrush “went up” like a Roman candle,
as baleful updrafts turned rocky outcrops into diminutive hearth
and mantle?
*
The roaring inferno roared,
onto the backdrop horizon, as it casted a sinister specter,
blanketing the twilit sky as flames soared;
From far afield the inferno\'s flames flickered,
reminiscent of a lighthouse\'s pulsating beacon,
welcoming seafarers home,
or warning wary captain\'s of danger ahead;
It\'s foreboding legend recited from aged pages rendered brittle
and amber within the bindings of a prodigious tome
*
Legends may be borne of tragedy or triumph,
in myriad fashion and form,
be it a cataclysmic happenstance, a foreboding event – whether
diabolical or heaven-sent –
may it take the shape of man or a hundred years\' storm,
by its very trait,
although divergent its affect on time and place may be – legend
transcends station –
the verbiage, the rhythm, the diction, the meter chosen by the
storyteller to narrate,
as its passed-down, handed-down, from one progenitor to an
eager progeny,
burning its formidable vocation – its enticing allure, its seductive
lure – into ancestral folktales and time-honored lore –
of yesteryear and of yore,
into the very annals of God\'s Earthly creation,
its infamy, or fame, lay in its wonderment, its historical
prevalence, its lyrical deliverance,
mired wholly in wanton fascination,
in humanity\'s enthrallment, intrigue, obsession – its enchantment
– with gluttonous, gratuitous – fatuous infatuation;
All the while,
the tragedy has grown,
as the triumph has grown,
yet would it be the afflicted man and his heroic deeds, or the
infernal affliction’s minacious remnants,
that would be the legend told, the legend learned, and the legend
forever known?