I
the Fate of the Families' Honor
now Rests in his hands
as He journeys to far-distant shores
for Atonement and pardon
and Grace of the gods
to Repay their Blood-Debt
to The First Covenant
II
Rage of angels,
the tear-flecked sand,
Far-away
star-away
flight.
A lone bitter cry escapes from the dark-
an echo
of echo
of light.
III
gathering storm clouds grey the skies
gathering heartbeats graze the lies
gathering mourners' grave goodbyes
ashes ashes we all fall down
IV
Floating in the foamy sea of consciousness...
the emerald lion broken in three pieces,
lying at the cliff’s edge next to the fire that never sleeps.
The blood fire, they call it.
Infused magic coursing through its veins,
its smoke twin tendrils of rage and desire.
High overhead, dark wings, almost invisible,
yet shrouding cliff and chasm in shadow.
Lion, lion - why ya cryin'?
Dry those tears, get on with dyin'.
This is the way the world ends, not with a shout, but a whisper.
The mourners come marching one by one, Hoorah, hoorah.
The mourners come marching one by one, Hoorah, hoorah.
The mourners come marching one by one,
The lion’s pride is dead and gone; and we’ll all go marching-
When the moonlight hits rose
When the moonlight hits rose
To see more poetry, check out LITERARY HYPE
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