There he was
Cold and Dead
Eyes open
As if
Even in death
He would seek to pierce the veil
The unknowable
Oh brave soul!
Regal he was
As if he would Challenge the Gods themselves in combat
Proclaiming to the world even Death cannot dim my flame
Lying there
Once Lord of the air
Sultan of the sky
Arcing and dancing upon currents of divine magic
Yet
Soon to be swept up by Saracens – Cretins–
A forgotten carcass
Whose bones litter this forgettable world
They are Incapable of knowing the power you once wielded
A wick snuffed in its raging glory
A blossom ravaged by winter’s cold truth
Dying with embers flaring
In bitter rebellion you would scream
“I was Lord of the Air!”
if I be a true man
I would anoint you in precious oils
And cloth your death in simmering gold attire
Lead processions proclaiming
“The Lord of the Air has expired”
Wouldst now the sky be so barren?
Alas the world tumbles and the die rolls
Such is how precious hearts are stilled
Ignominy claims us all as her own
How heaven and hell dance
And demand cadence from its players
How the mighty
Are thus laid so low
Rot in the Street
Lord of the Sky
Is It is only I
Who would sing thy glory
When the reaper calls…
Who would speak such words for me?
Tags: Dark beauty, death, Poetry, Sky
