~•~
I stand in the dark 'neath the oaken frame,
With the black night close at hand,
To ponder the potents and cost the runes
To read and understand.
And the wind blows 'neath the silver moon,
And a darkness stalks the wood,
As wards,and spells and incantations
Have all proved naught for good.
Death now stalks in the moonlight,
With Hate as its silver blade,
It brings in its breath a sickness
And scatters all light to shade.
The runes hit the oak as the candles glow,
The Circle wards the Dark
The whisps of herbs through the nostrils dance,
As the Future lays bare and stark.
Dead dreaming gods are laughing,
Their stars are coming right,
Their arms stretched wide to embrace Mankind
In the shade of Eternal Night.
To whoop and kill and howl with joy,
An ancient gods of old
Blades grow sharp and flamelocks prime,
With lust for flesh and gold.
The seas boil hot hot and the
Green woods burn,
As fire rains down from sky,
Angels gaze down at roiling Hell,
And weep as Mankind dies.
And amidst this triumph of horror,
In the ruins of cities of Man,
Rises a figure mock-laughing that bellows
"All by thy wish and thy hand!".
As the blackness rolls through my spirit's eyes,
I tumble, I trembling grope
To peer just beyond this hateful haze,
To grasp at a shred of hope.
But twist as I may through the velvet smoke,
To conquer my dreaming fears
There is naught but monsters and mortality
Striding across years.
~•~
YOU ARE READING
Serenade✔
Poetry"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. " ~Oscar Wilde __________________________________ ✔You stay under the carpet of my room, Dusting the corners of my soul✔ __________________________________...
