He stands atop the cragged precipice where the Sun meets the Moon in secrecy,
Hands still warm with the tremor of clandestine violence,
As he lifts his voice to confront the pale conspirator suspended in velvet dark,
"Oh argent witness, Sovereign of my secret sin,"
"What counsel do you offer to a soul undone from within?"
"Do you lament my sorrow, or rejoice in it's descent?"
"As blood becomes the ink with which my fate is penned."
To which the Moon smiled,
"Oh dear, in argent hymns I veil the damned,"
"In silver tracery I spin,"
"Your crimson deeds I crown with peace, each wound a whispered hymn."
"For when the mortal coil unbinds and mortal heart gives in,"
"I remain the Sovereign of the silent throng, where night and violence kin."
He bowed down to the preaching Moon,
Breath ragged as wind tossed sails,
Feeling guilt's undertow tug at his fractured resolve,
"Is remorse a trinket for the innocent? A bauble sweetly worn?"
"Or is it the cruelest vice of all, a rose whose thorns adorn the hands that dare to clasp it's stem?"
"Tell me, oh pale Harlot of Skies, does mercy lie in your embrace?"
"Or you just become the silent touch to comfort oblivion face?"
The Moon gazed with wisdom struck,
"Mercy is a folly sung by lips too soft with sin,"
"I offer only shadow's cloak, to hide the weight within,"
"For those who bleed in silence know my lullaby has begun,"
"And in the hush of the silent breath,"
"True freedom is lastly won."
He turns his gaze to the restless turf,
Each wave hitting with questions he fails to comprehend,
"Do you hear them crying in the deep, Oh Moon?"
"Their voices coil within my mind, a choir of those I keep beneath my very own tide of memory,"
"Liars."
"Lovers."
"Friends betrayed."
"All waiting to be claimed."
"Must every echo of the past return upon the breeze."
"To haunt bones of men who taught themselves at ease?"
A tremor ran through him,
As the Moon whispered unholy truth,
"Beneath the waves, the lost convene, their sorrows intertwined,"
"Your soul is a vessel carrying wreckage of mankind."
"No breeze as sweet as memory and no peace so coldly kind,"
"As that which only darkness grant, where guilt and grace align."
He gazed up the nightsky, obsidian a loving sin,
"I cradled steel beneath the veil of night, believed my cause was just,"
"Yet now I wonder if the blade was ever more than dust against a heart of hollow fears,"
"Tell me, Moon of Merciless, does power lie in tears?"
"Or only in hands that hold the blade while conscience disappear."
The Moon replied in sympathy,
"Tears are salt upon the wound, Mortal."
"But power is the sting,"
"The soldier's hymn."
"The poet's curse."
"And demon's offering."
"Your tears may salt the shattered earth,"
"But your steel reclaims the King,"
"For in each stroke that ends a life, the night begins to sing."
He staggers pressing a hand to chest,
As though still in torrent,
"I heard a laughter crack the dark,"
"His voice was warm with trust,"
"Now silenced by certainty,"
"Bone and breath reduced to dust,"
"Do I stand condemned by heaven's wrath,"
"Or hailed a Sovereign Crowned?"
"Is honour birthed in whispered graves, where only silence sounds?"
The Moon held smile of all knowing,
"Condemnation is a mortal myth, in darkness you are crowned,"
"A Monarch forged by ruthless art, upon the Earth's shattered ground,"
"His laughter echoes in your reign, a legacy long profound,"
"For Kings are known by tremors cold,"
"And subjects never found."
He sways by the cliff's edge beckoning with ancient lure,
"Each heartbeat is a question now,"
"A dirge that drags me low,"
"Can one who kills in whispered dark still claim the light to glow?"
"Or must the night consume the man and leave behind the ghost?"
"Ghost of all he was before the blade became the measure of his cost?"
Moon smiles upon his subject low,
"Man, in darkness all are equal made, where light and mercy cease,"
"Your ghost will find no harboured rest, for night demands it's feast."
"Yet in that feast your truth is forged, your doubts shall find true release,"
"And in the lasting hush of solitude,"
"Your reign shall find it's peace."
He crumbles to one knee,
The wind a bitter caress,
"Last night I pressed the cold steel beneath his fevered flesh,"
"Felt life's sweet pulse flatter, then yield to final breath's caress,"
"One watched his eyes glaze over, as silence draped his face,"
"And bore the weight of every drop, the crimson pattern of disgrace."
A hush more profound than ocean's roar,
As Moon spoke with a sigh,
"In that hush you found your crown."
"In that blood your truth confessed."
"For only those who spill another's blood may stand the night undressed."
"Your hands are stained."
"Your soul untamed."
"Yet still you walk unblessed."
"A King within his shadowed court, by darkness self addressed."
He rises gaze fixed upon the lunar pale,
A riddle bound in mortal flesh,
And steps back from precipice,
Bearing secrets no dawn can cleanse.
~ Sapphirus
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts of a Loner.
PoetryPoetry written by yet another individual just existing throughout as any other being like any of you, experiencing life and suffocating thoughts.
