My meager attempt to win her favor makes the lonely giants smile. Their delight in my clumsiness is but to mask their fear that I may one day be victorious. They are weary of her, for her joy unsettles them, and they see that even their minor folly has woe.
It is her mercy that undermines their deficient penance, her compassion frightens my unpleasant fiends, sending them to suffer like malignant flightless birds living at the edge of nature's sanity. In her embrace I can with unbent brow fight and curse the bigots yet unable to my empty spirit reprove. Upon approach my slumber is at last beguiled.
Leaving my troubled past in the wake like an untuned kettledrum. The once powerful demons now awash in the familiar olfaction of Saint Gabriel's traitor. My worry like a child trapped in a four dollar room. My doubts halted in deep thick snow like a half armored gladiator.
-Johnny V.
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