Alamogordo

The wizened wizards working
On potent powers dismal
To summon forces lurking
Deeply hidden, dark, abysmal.
 Their mysterious enchantments
Unleash a daemon foul.
What calculated conjuring prevents
Its pestilential prowl?
Spinning spells of might
They struggle night and day
To quell its burning bite,
To return its heart to clay.
 From deep down delvings,
Strove the fearsome fiend arisen
And in its wake came hellish things
Let loose from timeless prison.
 The formless fiend with wake of maim
Destroys all love and life.
But the muttering magicians claim
They did not cause the strife.
 “The fiend was not by us formed
We merely let it loose.
It feeds on human greed and hate
These are its nutrient juice.”

 “You wish us to release its power
And curse us when we do.
We laboured long to grant your wish.
The guilt rests equally with you.”

 The commoners and overlords
Point each one to the other.
Grasping all on innocent swords,
Quick each one blames another.
 And so the daemon grows in strength,
A feast around it laid.
Their craft reduced it not one tenth,
By love alone unmade.