Across a valley in August weather,
Goliath of Gath goads Saul's men,
calls down curses, cowards makes
of the people of promise, proud in his strength.
A son of Jesse, a shepherd boy,
hears this warrior's haughty words,
wonders why the wicked taunts
provoke no response, and puts himself forward.
Rejecting armaments, relying on God,
David strides forth, down into the vale.
The fate of his kin in his faith rests,
and the giant jeers and mocks.
"This day, by my hand, dead you will lie,
for the God of my fathers lives.
In arrogance, testing the Almighty King,
you have come to your last hour."
So saying, David, a smooth stone taking,
a song on his lips, his swing twirling,
lets fly the judgement, looses the wrath
of the holy Lord of the heavens.
Thanks to the Isle of Write for the great atmosphere to discuss and critique works.
Recent works:
The Valley of Kings
And They Dance
Ozymandius
art courtesy of @PegasusPhysics