Nathrangking

Here we are Poem #47 inspired by my love

Waters tinged with the slightest tang of tears rush forth from their source through valleys stripped bare of anything, but the bones of an earthen deity. The form of the ruler so sovereign lays upon the ground in disarray. Most solemn steps fly not upon the wings of majestic birds, but rather the forms of monstrous carrion unlike anything ever conceived by even the most malevolent spirits carry them at blinding speeds into realms rid of the boisterous sounds of laughter that once rang out. Armies smashed as the possessions of a child thrown into a rage are scattered about as a macabre cloak covering every surface of the world. Treasures are lost to the seas fallen into the darkness where their hollow beauty is obscured from sight until even time itself ends. Not even the long-since expended tears can soften the harsh death that has taken this realm into its hands and quietly strangled it into a submission so complete that were it not now reality would even omniscient deities believe it could be so? Wraiths that are not truly alive nor are they among the slain feast upon the carnage growing until they are all-encompassing in a way that threatens to unravel the few threads upon the loom of the three sisters that remain. Eyes that peer into the void most complete see what has been wrought and almost glow in glee are the pits that all have fallen into. Can any lament truly describe the agony that is radiating from this shell of a universe left with nothing at all to call its own? That a shroud cannot hide the remains of those so damned brings cruel chuckles into the quiet and summoning forth anathema without description.

Stars dying and spilling their blood spring awake now falling from the heights alit anew with a goddess leading them to war with a flute aflame issuing commands that launch a legion of legions worth of silver arrows and spears sailing forth. What they touch if it be of the impure ones shrivels their flesh earning the most horrible screams that any have ever known. Trembling lands are healed even while the unholy thing so entrenched in it is drawn out and ignited in an ocean of song intent on leaving from it nothing at all that might be reborn. Oceans of songs sweep across the desiccated ground reconsecrating it with their power and restoring it to what it once was and even more still with cities of gold ascending from the ashes. Driving the glee back into the very depths is the goal of tunes that recall the dead from whence they went and raise them up above where even primordials once stood. They rejoice while transformation excises the deepest of poisons from where they have steeped the very essence of this place with corruption, and replace it with a thing of galaxies and mysterious cosmos. No refuge remains for the horrors to hide when the lance wielders cast blanched bones into the heights from whence there is no return. Chains shattered and a world of smiles once again forged empress in her teal gown ascends once again to watch and enable even the furthest of beings to join her and her music until this is now the only thing that exists. Even in sleep and dreams this melody stands guard and carries all into an endless sublime embrace of peace returned.