The Living Shield, Finale

Challenged in power twice now,

the act of losing,

foreign to the conquest I oversaw,

hastens its pace,

with a breathing tsunami approaching,

and I, stranded, bearing its weight.


Encountering pain far from past pleasure,

I find scars where armor had been laid,

now the gaping maw of a waterfall’s barrage.

The soul I’ve uncovered begins to decay.


Encountering a force so driven against,

I feel limbs abandon their outposts in favor of ache,

the spectacle of an erupting forest depleting.

The soul I’ve uncovered begins to decay.


With shadows beckoning my arrival to obscurity

where questions evade the answers of morals,

I wonder if this was engineered in predetermination;

If the sights I have seen and the emotion within

were the flaws in the blood I had once drank from,

and the fall I now face is the conclusion I’ve forever known

for being human in the womb of an insect.


I wonder if this is the mistake that drives this killing blow

and if this is the mistake that permits me to embrace it,

watching without pain now as flesh collapses inward.


I know now the love you found.

I find at the brink of uncertainty the heart I never acknowledged.


Can it be…

can it be possible

as I embrace this killing blow,

You can survive to tell it all?

You can endure where I could not

And no man can steal away your domain.


I know it all now.

I’m thankful it could be me

to be your ultimate defense

and take this spear’s strike.

I’m thankful to have lived.

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( ❤ Mitch)

The Living Shield, pt. 3

A corpse limps from the caverns of the room.

The cold by my side lingers.

His expression is an obscured slate,

no face visible beyond a wayward morality.


Crawling down the back of my neck and toying with my nerves,

a quiet voice enters the space,

offering a plain request:

Fix a foe who has passed into an unknown.

Defy the mechanics of death itself when exposed to an unprepared mind.

I can care not, for I have no power.


Save a life that has flickered out of time and into memory,

torturing a spirit too young to comprehend.

I can care not, for I know not the way.


Seeping silently out of a growing agony,

a storm begins its invasion of innocence.

Wind races about,

bounding off of the tiles,

the gusts of a mounting anger forming an immovable object

stained with the recollection of trauma on repeat,

the tragedy that makes a boy a soldier,

and a soldier into a hollowed bearer of a scythe

swinging wild at anything that crosses its path.


Here is where the crosshair comes to focus.

Through the hole it makes in my chest,

I see a sniper’s aim straight to my allegiance.

True or not, it is no difference;

The risk is emanating from a towering boy

turned killer by circumstance.


Let it find its match in this room.

I am the palace walls that have yet to fall.

I am the barrier that sustains the life behind.

I am the one with a purpose to find,

a promise to keep,

a word to abide by.


Use everything that you care to use.

Your ambition will land on the shield I create.

As a hurricane finds purchase in unbridled ire,

routes are shuttered at their escapes.

Found in the range of a reaper’s ceaseless lust,

what’s left to consider is to hold fast in the soil

and fight for the secret all too transparent.

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( ❤ Mitch)

The Living Shield, pt. 2

Colder than a whisper of Hell,

a presence emerges from the gates.

No more than a child yet with a devil’s might

and a devil’s care for collateral damage,

with a crosshair unwavering from my chest

and the last objective I’ve to fulfill.


History screams in a voice barren of negotiation

as the innocent are pulled from the sidelines into the firing squad.

No more can be given.

I’ve become a husk for the sake of another

at the direction of a beloved.

No more can be given but a plea and a promise.


Never is there to be harm upon the casualty of our collision.

If there is blame to be had in the name of the past,

take this ruptured arm for the trophy of your rage

and step away from the secret.


Doubt has been made alien to me at the threat of defeat.

My conviction is singular and your intent is a flying spear.

Away from these walls, you may guide me away,

but it is never to be if a stray scratch adorns this frame I tend to.

An errant action will be off with your head.

I’ll swear this upon the second promise I can make:

Guide me away, but spare the spare,

whose only fault was to be stuck in our middle.


Lay not a finger.

I swear on this:

Upon her first breath I will meet your history

and the score shall settle itself in due course.

Nestled in the nadirs of a concealed arena,

this can all be brought to its end.


At your demand I am forced to abide,

seeing her body flinch as it awakens to the world,

seeing the finality that rests in a devil’s immobile stance.


Should you find a way through me, I now come to fear:

What of the king miles away?

Drowned in the bleak battle that’s assured by your power,

that which I care for most now finds itself out of balance

and I feel duty awaken anew inside.

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( ❤ Mitch)

The Living Shield, pt. 1

That which captivates your gaze has shifted.

It’s in the dying embers of imperial dreams,

fading from where once a fire was in your eyes.

Frigid tones emerge from the mouth of a conqueror

who once commanded flames at the tip of his tongue.


In the raining of artillery blows,

that which captivates your gaze has fallen,

set to expire on the outskirts of an existential plight,

and it is here where you have placed me.


Foes at the gates race about the desolate grave of humanity,

yet here is where I am placed to remain,

as a motion from the other side finds its momentum

and the turbulence casts you to a distant fate.

How am I not to charge into the same destiny?

Are you to forget the purpose to which you have been assigned?


Caressing in the hold of a spell,

I vie for a meaning in a lesser that has found a gilded domain,

replacing a king’s colony with something cloaked in gray,

defying the resistance and the clarity of our vision,

rendered black and white perfectly at conception,

now scattered into a separate sense of self.


Mending a fractured figure in the hold of my spell,

I recall the swords shot straight from your irises—

The final act of command delivered into my hands,

the consequence illustrated plainly in undressed words.


In her small form lies a secret.

I find myself close to finding a secret

and the reason your life has swayed.


It was duty from birth to sacrifice for the greater good.

It will be duty now to sacrifice for your greater self,

protecting the reason for marching into obscurity

where my hope for your safety descends from my grasp.

What I would pour out for you I will pour out for her.


Every reservoir drained.

Every channel unleashed.

Let the power exit me or let me wither.

No future is gilded until I see your light stand again.


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( ❤ Mitch)