Have you ever been SO bored in a meeting that if you didn't start playing with some writing, you were sure to find either sleep or madness? I decided to try a simple quatrain on Moon Knight, but as the meeting dragged on it turned into a sonnet:
Egyptian moon soaks any path you take,
Enveloping your tense form in white light,
As you prefer it. Let approaching night
Marauders see you, consider the stakes.
Egyptian steel cut into curves for flight,
Moons in your hands as if you were the god;
Gilt ankhs cross in your hands as if you hold
The over flowing Nile by Pharoah’s right.
Egyptian idol wrapped in silken folds
Reminds you of the task to serve and shield
late travelers, weak ones; to try to wield
The fist that strikes from moon-bleached shroud.
You hold the thought while tortured brain withstands:
The death conquering power, in your hands.
Then a couple days later, it was a dull conference call. Same theme, but in free verse:
Bathed by moon,
your thoughts attuned
to the ancient voice,
you wrap the traveler,
in the folds
of your unseen cape.
Ankh of gold,
you hold your blows
in reserve, await
the moment foes
commit beyond return.
dealing such justice
as can be had.
to be mad.