The percussion of artillery and heartbeats
Created a dreary melody of sobs which broke
The ice on the mountain heights,
And trembled the rapids of a river below.
In a fantastic gushing of force, down the steep divide,
A vibrant belief of stillness trickled into the grimy
And opaque land, which once had relished in grandeur.
The ore and crag were ablaze in vibrant waves,
The aspens broke into sharp, gnarled stakes,
And the clouds boiled in the warm and musty haze.
“What is behind that shadow?”
His voice bespoke with a dreary gravity,
He held his breath in smothering anticipation.
The era of wonder and bewilderment,
Now replaced by the pure carnage of sorrow,
Amidst the legions of destruction and dusk.
“It is the world. The truth.”
She appeared in darkness carrying a shield of guile.
She was cloaked in cobwebs and winks of light,
The aroma of moon flowers drift and dwindled,
Into the vacant realm of repression.
Her being foretold of the Stargazers.
“How will I see through this shadow?”
His colossal frame leaned to peer
Toward the distortion of the leaden midnight.
Flares danced from the iron and chains,
A fire raged above the timberline,
And all that he perceived was an emptiness.
“Lift yourself from the floor. Look into, not beyond.”
Her steady hand lifted to his hulking shoulder,
Where, through the frigid and absolute,
Came the brevity of a lost, archaic design,
That wavered in the shadow as a lightening flash.
She pulled him close with an afflicted sigh,
“Behold the stars, and run with them.”
A fierce wind of force rolled down into the valley,
And upon his lips were the words of shame and agony,
The sudden gusts swayed the stars’ light as a beacon.
The shadow lengthened upon the shattered ramparts,
As she laid her head to his plated chest in consolation,
And he surrendered to the scent of the moon and melting snow.
When, among the embers and artillery, he raised his head,
From the sunken depths of blindness,
He observed movement from within the shadow,
And pondered the truth of what settled before him.
The burden and strife persisted upon the land.
The mountains moaned with isolation,
The lakes froze with a tender cruelty,
And the fields bowed to the fire’s storm.
The Stargazer ushered toward the bleakness,
In the robes of the night’s drenching threads,
She pleaded to him,
“You must make the light.”
His battalion scattered and succumbed,
He, tired and defiant, beckoned to the umbra,
And let the stellar display fall into his hands,
And all else faded into oblivion.