from Denethor you are recieved,
from Boromir you are percieved,
from Faramir you are believed. . .
to Eowyn of power,
of Arwen in her stature,
and Galadriels’ tears you remain loved.
Who bore you, mighty You?
“When one has killed that dragon,
one has become The Child.”
-In the Field, p21
A Joseph Campbell Companion, Osbon.
Did i just Irked you to the max,
Have i unleashed your potential,
Are you ready to smoke and spread your tiny Smaug inside you.
Are you that stupid to make Eowyn out of me,
that it takes my feminine side to hear you wail like an Uruk-hai.
Then it seems to me,
From the blackest of your dead hand,
I can slay you,
just like that,
knowingly your attitude and behavior will make you
as a child would,
if someone would take your possession just like that.
When i need you most
When i have to face my battles
Then that monster comes into view
and all things gather round.
My heart is no longer there
My sword is broken
My hands not working
Then why does my eye
see the myriad of the sky
You have time
Dont mind your mind
Dont try, do
Dont cry, just . . .
until you see
but the abyss looking at you…
Says the sky.