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The Ancient Foe

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And yet my foe could not be slain but
Not by any magic or charm
Or any physical limitations I may possess
Or even by his power over mine
But this beast shall not be slain.
For if he be slain, but no it cannot be
Lest that bond which connects us
Be broken, ripped, torn, shredded, obliterated
And my life along-side his be taken
From this mortal, earthly plane.
This event, my death, does not strike in me fear
For I fear not my eternal slumber
Nor that ominous cloaked figure
That is the errand boy of God.
But though my deeds be numerous and heroic
Events have passed of which my participation was
Involved, And of these events, of which I take no pride
I've had not the chance to ask of my Maker
His forgiveness, not that I hold any certainty
That he would grant it after what has transpired,
And should I take my foe, and myself, to
That precipice of life and cast us over that
Mortal edge, we should find
Ourselves both in the fiery pits of Hell, where
Our battles would no doubt continue and
I would be confronted with that brute Satan
With whom I would have much conflict, given
my earthly striving to foil his attempts for
Supreme earthly dominance and, although I have
Striven for the downfall of Satan, I have no favor
In the eyes of the ultimate Judge that is God
And when that day of my judgment from God
Be handed down to me, I wish it to be one that sees
Me in the paradise that is Heaven, or at
Very least in Hell, but confined to the
Fields of Asphodel, the Garden of Heroes, but
Should my end come now, even with the death
Of my beastly pursuer, I would find no
Peace in my eternal rest.





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