An Ending
He was the last remaining soldier
To survive the storm,
Who dreamt of thunders calling
For his skull, for his bones.
A witness, now awake in a desert;
Not afar the dunes burst by the skies...
His one memory: Furies have haunted his soul
For sailing openly in voyage long ago.
And a Dream--whichever prophet had forseen--
Has been lost to an abject state.
Was a man born for naught but see
The tides wash up his kingdom's gate?
Uncharitable Faelures pestered him in golden wings,
But, null, in thoughts had fought back enough.
Hatred had crawled to escape from under his mangled meat,
And all that's left is Mercy, gods' rejected whore.
Creation is unjust and unfair, it breaks
Against the rusted bash of hammers.
But the anvil will stay, a stone locked in place
Until blood grinds away as the worthy trade.
Thus the eroded mind might be damned to reveal
"What was your doing has been done".
And a last green shade he saw, all Pride,
Too dark, since the Sun never rose the same anymore.
12/17/2023
