Post by Sheila Widdershins on Feb 21, 2007 13:55:03 GMT -1
The Cool Fires of Lament
The cool fires of lament
Tortured the soul of our story’s hero
Watchful little winged ones took heed
And silenced for a moment their bells
To listen as his thoughts welded a tongue
Of steely and cruel words, addressed to the world
Their eyes met, knowing that before them
Stood the future of evil
“Smile,” he spoke, “for death is afoot in young chests,
“and straggling, choking are the ancients”
He ignored their look of distress, pouring more blessed lies
“Pierce them with your empty eyes
“and reflect upon the hollowness projected
“bind them to do naught but your will
“bid them to slice away slowly reason
“and make their trembles dance a symbiosis with your apathy!”
A weary flame was drowned into the fiery hell within his eye
No longer could anyone calmly begin his fate to Scry, for it burned
The wicked words done their harm, cast their spell
Worked their charm… his laughter sounded
Through the forest’s leafy bower, setting them trembling
For the sake of Pure Magick’s sudden grief
The White Path was beginning to be denied
And with its loss of unity came bounding into its hurting arms destruction
Evil sank its spindly teeth deeper into mankind’s soft hearts
Their Kings consorted with the Dark Arts of a shadow world
Never meant to be touched by the unlearned
Yet playing into its hands were the foolish in a frenzy of hunger
And his kingdom fell apart to reveal
The seams had been split, and within only remained
The oily filth, the pure substance of malice…
The little winged ones shut their eyes to the world in their despair
For the world had painted them no more joy
They entered their slumber, and the curse they kept fast was set loose
The gifts of their attention suffered the fires of greed
And thus were all Magicks withdrawn
“Only to the worthy,” they sang as their wings folded,
“Only to those who can find them in the deep,” closed their eyes,
“For forever in the shadows shall they keep…”
The cool fires of lament
Tortured the soul of our story’s hero
Watchful little winged ones took heed
And silenced for a moment their bells
To listen as his thoughts welded a tongue
Of steely and cruel words, addressed to the world
Their eyes met, knowing that before them
Stood the future of evil
“Smile,” he spoke, “for death is afoot in young chests,
“and straggling, choking are the ancients”
He ignored their look of distress, pouring more blessed lies
“Pierce them with your empty eyes
“and reflect upon the hollowness projected
“bind them to do naught but your will
“bid them to slice away slowly reason
“and make their trembles dance a symbiosis with your apathy!”
A weary flame was drowned into the fiery hell within his eye
No longer could anyone calmly begin his fate to Scry, for it burned
The wicked words done their harm, cast their spell
Worked their charm… his laughter sounded
Through the forest’s leafy bower, setting them trembling
For the sake of Pure Magick’s sudden grief
The White Path was beginning to be denied
And with its loss of unity came bounding into its hurting arms destruction
Evil sank its spindly teeth deeper into mankind’s soft hearts
Their Kings consorted with the Dark Arts of a shadow world
Never meant to be touched by the unlearned
Yet playing into its hands were the foolish in a frenzy of hunger
And his kingdom fell apart to reveal
The seams had been split, and within only remained
The oily filth, the pure substance of malice…
The little winged ones shut their eyes to the world in their despair
For the world had painted them no more joy
They entered their slumber, and the curse they kept fast was set loose
The gifts of their attention suffered the fires of greed
And thus were all Magicks withdrawn
“Only to the worthy,” they sang as their wings folded,
“Only to those who can find them in the deep,” closed their eyes,
“For forever in the shadows shall they keep…”
Oct. 4, 2005
