Not wanting to kill but rather to set sail
On streams of love and waves of joy
The children of Krindle each one reached
Like lotus blossoms from mud ponds high
Toward the sky and toward the light
Blessed by sun and nourished by wind
They wanted only that they could have been
A flower that smiled upon each eye that saw
That saw the children of Krindle as children of God
Their tears did nourish further the land
The swamp teeming with life started to fester
Heat sweltering and searing the skin of creatures
All who would pass saw not the love filled flower
None who passed smelled anything but death
All who passed spat on them or stomped down
Squeezing out life before they had the chance to grow
They strived for beauty as fresh as birds
For petals soft as infant's cheeks
And for kisses scented like a blooming rose
Their love no different from that of a man
The children of Krindle would dream for a day
Of redemption,...
on, not decay
So when word crept over the fields that Beowulf
To stroke an ego grand grasped a sword
The children of Krindle cried
Sensing the impending doom and demise
The children of Krindle cried
Hopes sank deep into the swamp
Thick mud grasping at them like claws
Talons gripping a morsel of truth
Whispers of illness and demonic doom
The mother of Grendel she did know
That her only child would suffer
At the sword
When Grendel's mother gazed upon her own visage
She saw not the face of demonic death
But of the lotus blossom
In her son's face she saw also the glimmer of sunlight
They knew and longed for, the raindrops too
Grendel's mother knew that her ancestral fate
Had been to strive for naught
To struggle and strive for no reason at all
And just as if the sun had pierced through a cloud
Grendel's mother knew that this day forth
Would be dedicated to a different cause,
To death.
