Black engulfed my very being, as light stepped back, trembling, fleeing,
All I could hear were ghastly sounds of waters beneath the knoll.
The river was plainly daunting, pitch black trees erected, haunting,
My wretched soul rising, wanting naught but eternal parole.
From the gloom and darkness my soul sought but eternal parole,
So once more I may be whole.
Faces sprouted within the river, yelling out, afloat in quiver,
“You dare escape? You shall never!” as glimpses of hope they stole.
Winds escorted armies chanting, with wings of black, crooked, slanting,
Strolling, cackling, freely granting the gift of death amongst all.
The reapers of quietus were granting death and loss to all,
And for myself I condole.
“Not me,” prayed I. “It is not time. Not now, never. Flee paradigm!
“I shall not yield another spirit to join the stock they stole.”
The reapers laughed, axes swinging; angels, melancholy singing,
As glowing psyches floated, clinging to a life beyond control.
Troubled spirits, grasping dearly to a life beyond control,
Forever lost, never whole.
With every tick I crossed a gap, with every step my fate unwrapped,
As I bolted to abscond the trap of death lurked beneath my goal.
Down the waters then descending, my departure soon impending,
The voices began transcending into depths adorned by shoals.
Water beasts, gathered quite firmly, to create such wondrous shoals,
As the voices took their toll.
“Let go your sword, you need not fight. Your armor, too, it tames your flight.
This wicked fate won’t see the light, should you eclipse from its patrol.”
Naked and cold I dove the wet; a lost figure, a silhouette,
Stressed, disturbed, trying to forget the fright in which I’d enrolled.
The subtle horrors imposed upon me after I’d enrolled,
Into a realm dark and cold.
Yet a light began to glimmer, waters danced with moonlight shimmer,
The world above grew even dimmer, dimmer than a vulture’s soul.
Deep waters were ever-glowing with picturesque radiance awing,
Heart and soul harmoniously flowing, flowing with a buoyant goal.
Guileless hope now flowing with aspiration to attain my goal;
My escape to times of ole.
In luck and mercy I’d adhered, yet eyes of red revived my fear,
Awakening both dread and drear in a world that yearning stole.
Faces sprouted above, around, yelling out, with a shrilling sound,
“You shall never flee these cursed grounds!” as glimpses of hope they stole.
They had warned me, yet I failed to listen, as all hope they stole,
And with it my defaced soul.
Then I sensed an ethereal aura, lights of white and godly quora,
Was I in Ether or merely dreaming of my lands of dole?
Suddenly a voice was speaking, chastising attempts at seeking
Unorthodox ways of tweaking destiny which met its role.
“My desire dictates your perish, after one concludes his role.
Desire shall take its toll.”
“What divinity lives so callous, brutish, fiendish, full of malice?
Is this truly your prime desire, to wreak havoc upon us all?”
“I am no god, prophet, devil, deity from a holy bethel,
You confound your thirst for being as a rival to my goal.
So be it, nescient one, your life is now yours to control,
And may you never, again, be whole.”
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