Megan Who? Shia LeWhat? Go to hell. All salute a real American hero:
An Elegy For Optimus Prime
Lurching space-hulk, esteemed tomb of Cybertron,
Receive the dulled shell of one who blazed through
Darkest hours. Who, with iron flex and pistoned whir, flew
Amidst unspoken phantasms of glory, soon gone
In a flicker of weakness – mercy – which, we all knew,
Was his only failing: that he was too good, would abandon none.
May he be borne aloft on steel pinions, his legend searing
The circuits of those bereft, cursing that fate should
Prise away the one clasped so close by all: he who could
Turn tides in magisterial vengeance; with honour clearing
The scene of iniquity and, with hissing doom ever nearing,
Silence armies with plangent truth, bearing the hope of all good.
Spiralling out to alien Earth; buried by the slump of history
To awaken to us, and them, bringing the sword to bear again
Against ancient evil. I, and others, of course, wistfully
Cherish the old clang of titan legs into rapt memories when
You first walked among men. Haloed in sheer mystery,
Young gazes tapered off halfway up, wreathed in clouds as you went.
Megatron! Vile deceiver, he who escapes only by the grace
Of the good he so loathes. Optimus, do you still long
For freedom? Take it, let the still-fresh vision of your dying face
Spur others to lesser victories. Speak out with ageless song
Through aeons to those who fight in your name, who race
Breathlessly to guard the hope you forged, until all are one.
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