Looked down with a scowl
Irritant disapproval
Chastising the independent deviation
From the quo, status not to be
Challenged, words of shame poured
From those reverent vials, heavenly lips
Of wisdom, never questioned
Threatening to destroy what had taken so long
To build.
The time had come.
Telemachus’ shield forged in ancient fires
Burnished by the gods, leapt from
The iron of tyronic breast, taking shape of will
To deflect in obedient force of honor;
The sword
Sheathed from the beginnings of silence
Ripped from its scabbard, swung in bold arc
A flash of light trailing in its wake
