Deserted

Hell’s face he beheld when he fell
Friends turned foe openly hid, casting the desert net
Ruminating herds picking the days of hay to graze
Where is the wind that sang these drenched feathers’ praise?

It is known of the cock’s crow and Peter’s cry as He was held
Solidarity that shivers and staggers in the trail of a test
Just as a gecko is to its tail in a chase
What is friendship when non-existent in frailty and plays safe?

He vows; to sow self-centredness - “I am the centre” he said
Bye - to them that are friends when you are in the trends
This cross on which trust got maimed by deceit’s nails
Gory glory that died from the edge of a blunt blade

It was said of how sleep bears semblance to death
They will come scooping when there’s much to fetch
His torch is lit on a day so bright to find the way
They will be found nowhere when whipped by life’s heavy chains