Creatures crawled into the tomb of ages,
Decorated with the spirits of millennia,
That sparkle like the moon in the absence of the sun,
Thus creatures of a long forgotten era.
They stumbled upon what was once the worlds frayed and fraught destiny.
That in the beginning the warriors would cry out in heroic howling for their swords,
The air thick with the warm feral stench of young blood spilt.
So that man can proudly fight with honour,
For the lustrous works of sin.
Deeply set in the belief that they work for righteous kin.
Naïve to the fact only they were righteous.
With the ultimate will to fall,
For their calling is threaded with deception,
From whosoever wields the horn.
All shall be lost to human’s impetuous nature,
That life shall only now continue at a patter,
The pictures of a once thriving home,
Long since now fractured.
For our future is to be set ablaze,
Where such creatures now stand,
To look to our past in vile disgust and forever be enraged.
© 2011 Alana Bembridge