More Than Conquerors

It’s gonna drag you to the gallows

on  a cold night in November.

It’s gonna raise the knife above you,

chase you  down with dogs and guns.

It’s gonna step on your throat, laughing,

it’s gonna hear your strangled cry;

fear will kill you,

sure as the morning light.

 The Grinning Reaper.


Never fought a greater enemy.

Never felt a killing blow,

like the knees turning to water

and the stomach start to sour.

It’s as if you’ve known no courage,

no strength, or victory;

fear is the smiling thief

that relieves you of your soul,

just before the battle begins.


Turn to face the bastard, finally;

never really there at all,

but a ghost,

a wraith,

a vampire,

tucked away in psychic shadows.

Draw him out

with situations

that breed fear,

purely for the purpose

of crushing it out.


The dark shame

that stains the soul,

will brighten.

Fear is an inky black,

bone-fingered grip

that tries to hold on,

but we are more than conquerors,

in the light

and in the dark;



HG -2017

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