We cockerels preen ourselves
Strut our ritual dances
Crow our chanting calls
Even show our breast feathers

We build nests of brick and steel
Weave homes out of wood and mortar
Feather them with jewels and gold
Soften them with our down

We take flight into contests of talons
Launch into games of strength
Work into strategies of intelligence
Surrender into the abyss of weakness

All done
That the goddesses might deign us
The favour of their smiles

Ahh the Goddesses
We cockerels are in awe of them
Humbled before their presence

Everyday we worship at their temples
Sacrifice our seeds in their altars
Surrender all that we hold true

We make pilgrimages to their heavens
Defend them with life and limb
Make war over them

All done with the hope of
Just seeing the gates of the temple
Open once again

I know my brethren
I have seen my Goddesses
Have done my ritual dances
I have made my sacraments

And still it is not enough
For it is we cockerels
Who are blinded by their radiance
Buckle under their kisses

We bow before their storms
Because we are not
The lifebearers
They are

About rokuth

With a few exceptions, all the prose poems I have posted are at least a decade old. A reflection of some of the things I've lived through. New ones seem to be emerging, though... The blogs are more current. Rokuth = Ro(dney) Ku(lanayagam) Th(illiampalam) 'Khanahdhara' is actually a Sci-Fi/Fantasy story I'm working on.
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