Nathrangking

For those who know and those who wish to.

                      Inundation 

The skies spill their tears over the cubs whose strengths were never known. Their spirits ascended among flames so ravenous that only that which was incorporeal were spared. Smoke did not take them when in darkness they were entombed. Peace did not find them as unclean songs washed over the dead. Alongside one who sought to mend a world so fractured they were made spectacles to amuse anathema which crawled from the abyss. Skies drown us in your sadness unbound.

Lioness where are you as your kin cry out in agony without end? Did butchery of the most primeval sort take you that now we must be inconsolable? Until when will the stars gone dull on high refuse to descend and illuminate the carnage that sweeps across innocents? Did you hide yourselves and refuse to act? How did you justify your failure to turn back the hordes that rose to smite them? Heavens above do not cease to wail while the guilty stand unpunished and the innocent are unavenged.

Answer now shadows which watched and concealed. No shame enveloped you when you hid the purest gems in your cloak and snuffed out the light in their eyes. How did you not refuse to take them and instead turn your hands against those who cast them into chains that no mortal may ever break? What price was too high for armies of retribution to take those who bore no sin from the beast unshackled and deliver unto the monstrous horrors a reckoning sealed in their own blood? Should not their blood have intermingled with the rain?

Dirges upon the wind should fly and be heard in all places until it is a blade which will shatter the enemy where they stand. Ranks should tremble before these cries. Let their every dream be awash with agony not their own. Beasts of the field come witness and accuse. Birds of the sky allow no rest to those who ripped away without reservation. Breath in their throats aid them no more and ice swallow them now entombing them in cold everlasting. Earth take them forevermore. Should you not come forth to wage war?

Treasures despoiled will shine once more in days to come in time draped behind the thickest veil. Light will not reveal them to eyes below and they will not unveil them for any towell and truly behold. Candles burn now and form a road and plea up into the aether it goes parting the gloom that looms. Pathways just beyond touch and sense rise and fall as the beats of hearts stilled and silenced. 

Cubs, your voices sing no more and do not penetrate iron so skillfully woven as to cut with barbs of poisoned razors. However, a rhythm that cannot be restrained plays with two strains as one that no blade can sever. It is not a shroud to bury the lost, but rather your call to arms not to shed blood and smite the whole of the world. Memory is what it implores all to hold to and seek a day when the skies need cry no more.