Sovereign Good

Something to behold
That great golden bloom that
Chugs on forever like the country train...

Slowly, with industrious might,
Churning to the big town.
 Where the
Air turns in tension, like the swing of an axe.

Chopping down what anger lay rotting in the pit of the Sovereign Good.

Laying waste to strategy no longer beholden to the last, those
Who historically knew that law
Would meet this light,
Drying it’s glow,
But only adding weight
To a force so heroic
That given proper time may yet,
Forge a destination...