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.