FURY IN MOTION

O Worship The Harley!

Behold this regal masterpiece of classical tradition;

fashioned by genius – a pinnacle of man’s inventiveness.

My countenance conveys such majesty, such strength, such beauty;

crafted as if by gods, and not mere mortal men of flesh.

Showers of praise and accolade rain and drench my person.

My mighty chest doth swell and overflow with worthy pride.

Consider then my purpose and exceptional design;

a powerhouse so supreme all others fall prostrate before me.

For while I but sleep, I am the object of awe and fascination.

How could mere mortals fashion such devastating perfection?

What miracle doth inspire such thoughts to cause my very being,

as if the gods themselves had willed and crafted my divine creation?

Beneath my face of steel, reflecting light in flight before me,

there lies a noble heart; a symphony of mighty moving parts,

which when conducted, will awaken and create such terror

that all creation shall know I, and I alone, am the rightful king of princes.

And those mere upstarts, who wouldst dare contest my reign,

Are not mine heirs but false pretenders to my throne.

Behold, I wake and stir and in season set in motion

all those inward parts of muscle and steel sinew, which

wouldst cause those fools who dare rival my authority

to bow down one by one and kneel before their king.

I roar! A thunderous bellow of a roar – like a beast possessed.

Yet this is but a prelude to such marvels as my power will fashion.

And now I rise to make the very air surrender to each blast of fury.

Hot gas and blood explode from deep within my furnace,

as each deep-throated roar progresses to my next astonishment.

Yet my engine doth but idle and my real task not accomplished.

But in due season I shall reveal my true and terrifying majesty –

My pulsating heart and lungs shall spring to life with deafening ferocity.

Claps of heavy thunder blasts cascade to mute all sounds around me,

as my real power engages into drive, propelling me to speedy motion

in a cacophony of canon fire with ever wild crescendo.

Every face transfixed in awe turns in my direction.

I throttle up yet again and shift a gear with omnipotence.

My belly shakes the very air in terror with unquenched fire,

and all before me flee in wonderment and admiration so profound.

I fly;

I fly on eagle's wings and with all my energy so harnessed.

The chilling wind doth strive in vain to cool my raging furnace,

and whatever thrust required of me I shall meet in plenty.

Now hear this, you pretenders, and mere princes who wouldst have my crown:

Get in rank! – you shall not have it for your pedigree will not stand the test of time . . . . .

 . . . . like mine.

Copyright:  Eddie Bluelights March 2009

I am honoured to receive Post of The Week award from Hilary at The Smitten Image, 6th August 2014.  
Thank you Hilary, and congratulations to the other winners.



To see how I became a big strong boy, able to handle this nasty beast click on MAG229