Eidelon

The sombre eidelon stands alone,
A rock admidst a tide of man,
Cavorting flesh, no mind, all meat.
To flight the mind to fancies,
and intimidate the senses.

Atending him, the silent Jezebel,
Painted in judgemental black.
Lips pursed, eyes of grey steel.
Contempt for the traveller in this riotous realm
Matched only by the inspired revulsion returned.

In tunnels hewn by human hands,
To circumvent the mechanical mess,
A grubby Orpheus may be found.
With matted hair, and busy bow,
and eyes smouldering with promise.

And at your side, the jewel of grace,
Borne forth by this decaying place,
A guide she is - though weak, well versed,
She'll take you by the hand,
And help you understand.

And help you'll need,
Lest this tide pull you down,
And you succumb to the might,
A city full of vigor and sheer numbers,
Can exert upon you.

But God, you'll feel alive.