Nathrangking

Week 5 Poem # 5

                                                    Coronation?

The mountains crumble beneath my feet and the cosmos are nullified by my every breath. Kingdoms cry out and drown the mortal plane in sounds that I drink with the relish of one who has known nothing but thirst. City walls shatter before me in wonderful ways that grant me ever more power. My voice rings out over all taking for itself a throne that I consider anathema. Rage burning and unending lashes out and scorches she who bore me as I prepare for war.

Terrible usurpers come to take that which is mine by birthright though they rightfully tremble as I rise to meet them. A blinding bolt bleeds the sky dry of the purest ichor and throws across my back a lash which nicks my flesh as only the slightest of cuts. From the upper regions comes a false lord whose avarice raised me from the dust to be his destroyer. I swat him down, striking him without mercy, and tear trenches that reach into my father’s very being to paint the world in ancient blood.

Waves and mother’s trembling seek to wound me. A second brother chills me with powers that embolden my anger. Iron daggers tear into him as I smite him when he gets close enough to see the spirit of death in my eyes. He is tossed about and his golden toy falls away from his grasp. Fire streams about me as I set loose the might of the flames that rest in the heart of she who gave me life. We are wreathed in thick burning clouds as the last one comes to do battle.

Upon his brow is a helm that stuns me where I stand. Horrific things that I cannot even describe appear before me. Ice robs my form of all strength and when I lash out it is feeble as one just born. Renewed vigor quickly returns to me as I teach him fear. Vast forests are splinters when his body is unable to escape my wrath. His bones and those of his brothers creak filling the world with the sweetest of melodies. Sweat, blood, and tears fall as libations to one who would not have them.

As one they turn on me. Crashing drums fused with jagged spears maul me in concert with exploding earth and icy blades that are peeling my flesh. Every step that I take is now in retreat. As night flees and dawn comes a final contest does begin. The one who stands upon the air alone does fight this day. Bolts of silver fire burn me as razor winds tear most into me most deeply. Hailstones prepare my burial as I fall into the depths with vengeance in my mind. An inferno smokes as the father of all monsters plots to rise again.