The Marathon: Parts I and II

I: The Runners Beyond the metaphysical divide Where clouds of doubt may burgeon and confound A contest was arranged to help decide How ultimate salvation might be found The marathon would draw an eager crowd Whose entertainment stringers guaranteed The brightly coloured pennants fluttered proud Along the lengthy running route agreed Contestants two assembled for a match Of clashing methods to attain the goal With one determined luxuries to catch The other after credits for his soul Pleones had a fine estate amassed To elevate him high above his peer By cravings was he reckoned to outlast And by his ruthlessness, to sharply steer Against Pleones, Veritus was plain And modest as a champion can be Whatever prize he undertook to gain Would not be so immediate to see The customary starting point was placed With bystanders arrayed in ringing rows As on the track, the centrepieces paced Attempting to allay their nervous throes In seven stages would the race proceed Attached by an endurance testing trail The first to each, by virtue of his lead Would of his chosen bounty first avail Pleones took his place beside his foe And turned his head to give a spiteful look But from the gruelling distance left to go The gaze of Veritus could not be shook II: The Libations The gun provoked a loud and cheerful roar And, neck and neck, the runners passed the gate As open country, both were headed for Where obstacles lay secretly in wait Their onlookers could cast restraining eyes The whole way to the city's outer line But treachery was free to exercise Once deep into the marshes, they would wind The ground below their feet grew soft and wet And wild overgrowth would all enclose When resolute, his accolade, to get A shortcut off the trail, Pleones chose Though cunning marked the corners of his grin His first plateau reduced to steps away The quicksand that he stumbled squarely in Elicited a holler of dismay As soon as Veritus perceived the yelp He scrambled through the weeds towards the sound And offering his sturdy arm as help Returned the fallen one to solid ground A measured space outside the muddy moat Pleones thanked the hero with a shove And paused for but a twinkling to gloat Before he turned to seize the spoils above He found a table set with jugs of wine Each bottled in the foremost vintage year He opened one to sate his palette fine But, by and by, he drank the table clear Believing that his rescuer had died He fell into a comfortable snooze The fitter man had nature's law applied To make sure that the better man would lose (to be continued)
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© 2016. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.