| Feel the hum Of the supply strong silver, The sword�s serrations, gaping wide To th�eternal defence, But safely sheathed beside my Right arm, to display and warn My sycophant adversaries. It hangs; loose-limbed, flash-ready, Buckled to my belt, the Beaten leather rides comfortably Round my waist and the Great buckle is unmissable for The Omega and the Alpha Meet the other in a metallic brilliance That scribes the truth, always Before me. I walk upon the side-strapped Comfort of the brown sandals, smooth With the thousand journeys asked Of me but raw enough for the Myriad to come; apparently frail, the Sun-tanned skin repels the stingy Debris on the dangerous path I walk. A brass brow-broken shield lends a Weighty protection on my left arm; The rivets are frighteningly studded So it is, all at once, a weapon and a Saviour, but if some invading alien Attack should pass it, the Fail-safe mail-chain mesh repels the Assault as my breastplate safeguards Right (eousness). But the equipment Is not complete; I don a Battered and dusty helmet to Conceal what no enemy should See, only showing them a narrow Target they cannot hit, but such Impact would be irrelevant such Is the confidence in my armour. But one thing remains (worldly armour functions only to protect it); Upon my back is my cross, And daily I must bear it. |