Nathrangking

Poem 32

Living?

Shadows as vultures swoop down and tear at the ruins of a realm little more than mounds of dead and unmitigated destruction. Oceans of ruby cause the earth to drink until Terra is sickened by the glut of life draining away. This terrible paint is like libations to gods who long ago gave up hope for mortals and abandoned them. Even the most benevolent shutter their palaces that they should not witness the world die an eternal death. From the heights there is apathy and the depths will not comfort them or accept new souls. Spirits haunt this realm and bring horrific nightmares upon those who hide in the rubble waiting for their ends. There is nothing here for any, but forgetfulness and a journey into an eternal abyss from which there is no return. What can any do, but allow their tears to slide down emaciated faces that are skeletal and hope that soon they will sleep and be assaulted by wraiths no more. How they long to be unable to suffer any longer without even the strength to pray prayers that they had long ago abandoned and forgotten. 

Existence weeps, but all goes still in the midst of the slow descent of humanity into void and where there was weeping a comforting voice resounds. As the most magnificent nightingale’s song a tune is born from empty air. Stars start moving about in unrestrained dancing while the birds of prey are driven off. Polluted waters are crystal while the dying rise up from where they sit in concealment and throw off the shackles of weakness that dragged them down. Though they have not consumed morsels they grow haler by the moment. Those who were locked in the mists damned to wander are given passage now into the realm of the living. Deities hear the sound of joy and in confusion emerge back into the world. Signs of power are stripped from them as they become that which they ignored while their fortresses collapse into the aether. She who pulls all into an unnatural light gazes upon all kindness suffusing the cosmos as her endless beauty names her queen over those whose tears she wiped away. Her reign begins forevermore not from on high, but among her people on the earth below.