The Changeling – HEG George

I am the newly born face of munificence, unquenchable beauty. 

My tides are full with bountifulness, like an orchard to the table. 

My fleece radiates guiltless white, bestowed like a lamb, fresh 

upon its mother. And the flight of a newborn world is upon the wing 
My once childish demeanour has grown into a handsome face, 

with the offer of a pristine horizon as dowry. And the fruits from 

the fleur de mer are bound for the land, to walk amoung its forests 

and cultivate its soil. Free of tarnish and burnished by a new sun 
As the cloud’s rivers carry food along my valleys, carved 

by mighty glaciers, the King Fisher learns its trade and 

apes are low in prominence. As yet to chase the flame 

and its future dividend 
But, as with any river, there are two shores upon which to live. 

And there are signs that a sheep in wolf’s clothing stands two 

legged and tall upon the other shore. And like the changing of 

the seasons, too soon its cold has become warm and its warm 

become hot. Wrapping a ring of savage finality about itself 
On that bank, benevolence has changed a once accepting face, 

to one of prideful leers. And the once responsible mien of its 

manhood has lately become the childish game of a drunken 

fool to be frittered away, like so many coins 
And changing tides recede onto unredeeming shore lines, as a 

water fall’s once prized cascade becomes scorched by a pitiless 

sun. And yet. My heart still resonates with the cries of a dying 

humanity and should our eyes and ears only perceive it, there 
is time to nurture this changeling yet. To cross the river and 

force back the spears of gluttony that have breached this paradise. 

To grasp the hands of an entire peoples despair and lift them up, 

like a father to a child and the righteous to the atoned 
For without this change of games pursued, we leave behind a 

dessicated husk of rock. To become one of many such trinkets 

that orbit the lights in the night sky.