PSALM

dim was the way
with them looming,
professorial and sage,
and blotting out the sun
though I saw cities
a prism of light refracted
through jeweled rings
on their pinky and thumb
my every swing
at it was checked
pulled back refuted
or validated
and from no mountain I saw
not how great but how small
I'd always be in their thrall
to these Gods
and to their feast 
I'd only be tending 
so I climbed then their monument
tore through their visage
bore through the monolith
with tiny strokes, persistent
and steady as salt water
wore down and crumbled my idols
I cracked heaven and the steam
of my spirit rose
I cast off even my fond shape, my past
and came into the new story
set pace to rivaling myself only
and from their war I tore 
and took my song.