Anacrusis Itare

the Fate of the Families' Honor 
now Rests in his hands 
as He journeys to far-distant shores 
for Atonement and pardon 
and Grace of the gods 
to Repay their Blood-Debt 
to The First Covenant

Rage of angels, 
the tear-flecked sand, 

A lone bitter cry escapes from the dark-
an echo 
of echo 
of light.

gathering storm clouds grey the skies 
gathering heartbeats graze the lies 
gathering mourners' grave goodbyes 
ashes ashes we all fall down

Floating in the foamy sea of consciousness...
the emerald lion broken in three pieces, 
lying at the cliff’s edge next to the fire that never sleeps.
The blood fire, they call it.
Infused magic coursing through its veins, 
its smoke twin tendrils of rage and desire.
High overhead, dark wings, almost invisible, 
yet shrouding cliff and chasm in shadow.

Lion, lion - why ya cryin'?
Dry those tears, get on with dyin'.

This is the way the world ends, not with a shout, but a whisper.

The mourners come marching one by one, Hoorah, hoorah.
The mourners come marching one by one, Hoorah, hoorah.
The mourners come marching one by one, 
The lion’s pride is dead and gone; and we’ll all go marching-
When the moonlight hits rose
When the moonlight hits rose

Anacrusis Itare may (or may not) be related to this poem.

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Alexis-Rueal said...

I could write an essay on how outstanding this poem is; suffice it to say, it is one of your finest pieces and right near the top of my favorites. Bravo!

jadriana said...

Love it.