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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 25692
Category:
myth_legend
Posted: November 19th. 2006 4:56:15 AM
Views: 883 |
A mage shaping the gods…
by Widdershins
Age Group: Adult
Shaping the gods with morose placidity,
each eternal, eternally unreachable
beyond the mark of mankind and obscurity,
the white robed black heart cast with Elven ears attuned, and
spoke the magic he longed for – at last! – beloved spells and runes, like
a drumbeat in harmony with the heat rising from his fingers
his words pounded the walls inside, he can wait no longer!
the obsession ripping his very being apart,
it is a scroll of images, recipes, diagrams that replace his heart
and just as his labor produced the mute energy beam,
every moment of his age seemed to unravel as he is swept off his feet,
the lines on his face were gently being erased
without a trace… and he kneels in fallen grace, now he stares
eyes a violent hue darker than before
staring at the blinding mark rising from the floor,
staring at his sacred mark with sweat dripping from his brow
lips parched and whetted by hunger
that he has to suffer the agony of mortality no longer,
he has the power of the All
he has the power to shape the very gods…
the beam that had forced him to his knees had shattered
every cauldron and chalice in the mage’s room
his slender fingers groped feebly on the robes tattered and strewn,
his life’s work in a book – now dust
in the power of All had he placed all his deepest trust…
to challenge the Dark Queen of the sky, he needed all his strength
and he would cast and stir, go to any lengths, he must have
the stars for himself… he, Darkness must have it for himself…
from the grave he brought his beloved deceased
from the skies he tore the stars
to replace the empty cave, the place of her still heart
and she screamed and wailed suddenly in the agony
of being alive again, in a real body, she shakes
the decay rapidly sewing up her soft skin once more
her human face young with vibrant radiation
her heart… from the very stars…
…the Elven mage’s thin lips curl upwards,
the aching knots in the fingers will not recede
but his passions were running too deeply
for him to stop now and pay his physical being any heed,
he would cross the forbidden barriers of life
and put an end to all of his strife, the mage hungrily
stared into the eyes he’d created from the sheen of mist
he longed to have her at his side, when his mortal self ceased to exist,
so he gently lead the creature before him join with the light
she would be the one to brighten his path through the long nights,
and him, the Lord of Darkness would become
mage no longer, but immortal and worshipped god…
November 19, 2006
Author's Location: Szeged, Hungary
More Poems: Widdershins has posted 234 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Widdershins - Click HERE
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