WRESTLING WITH LIONS

A tremor, as loud and as bold as a Lion's roar,
Froze the castle walls and broke open the gate.
The hands of men lifted in surrender,
To offer their fear, untainted by hate.

A golden haze settled over the land,
Melting like snow the heart of the keep.
Lips quivered in shock of deliv'rance,
While the Lion fixed its hind legs to leap.

Dust from the ground swirled in currents,
Sweeping men fully off of their feet.
Ever to ripple and flow, his mane aflame
Like the sun, immense melting heat.

The Lion's face defeated the sword,
Splitting in two the pride of reproach,
Making men less to their knees,
As the Great to them closer approach.

Men blinded by fierce daggers of eyes,
Can see golden hair seven around,
Encircling their fortified walls,
Forcing faces by dead ground abound.

Clenching snow they feel no cold,
It is only by their proponents near
That they cover their faces,
And curl in proximity too clear.

It is won, the battle that's come,
It is true, the Lion that's real.
This booming voice that says above,
That he has the power to heal.