Legends of Belariath

Mozenwrathe

Ebon Ivory II - Daylight

under a scarlet sunrise
winter howling at gates of bone and sinew
do I face harsh real alone
for none such as I venture this far
to places of damnable rites and ritual
graves of hobgoblins are my sole companions here
their ghosts quietly whisper to me
speaking of great and horrific deeds past
raping villages filled with the innocent
destroying sacred temples to gods of peace and wonder
setting fire to living wounded
only as to hear their shrieks of pain
throughout all theese travesties laughing hoarsely
knowing their dominance over the lesser races
was approved by their gods most loudly
exaggerating their roles in all things
yet allowing more truth to seep into my soul and breast
giving me heart to continue
even in face of dire and darkest adversity
as have I no prayers to be answered
no goddess or spirits to beg forgiveness or favour
for have I long been sever from winds of my birth
and left to drift over oceans of grit and corpses
yet still must I let hope consume me from inside
in order to feel warmth
instead of merely hollow

eyes watch the looming advance of the sun
uncaring of its adverse affects
phantoms instead of fleeing the light
embrace its glowing power
while the cool evening transforms
now a frigid and hostile morning
icy steaks of wind flush my breath
leaving my senses open to challenge
weeping of mourners crashes against my ears
long perished centuries before were they
yet can their echoes of suffering tingle my nerves
lifting my twisted soul upwards
holding it aloft on virtual dreams
my smile incapable of growing larger
imagining these hands of mine strangling the unweary
howling in triumph at beheading the pure
watching the blood seep into the stones at my feet
coating the world in their dead wishes
this journey has not been in vain
but enriched what lies within my veins
know that I am renewed
and so does the end hasten for others

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