Become exalted among men.
That was his calling, down
To the fibers that made up
His consciousness.
Become a paragon of virtue.
Piety, prestige, power.
The three undulating commands
That invaded his dreams.
Hubris seeping from every pore,
He conquered his lands,
Spreading warmth from which
Came serendipity.
Will he die and leave his subjects
In a mask of pain?
Or will his benevolence remain
in the hearts of his loyal followers?
Such was the opaque fog
of his mind. Where he saw a perfect
Sphere of light
was an oblate cloud of darkness
Out of which seeped words
Of encouragement.
Prestige, piety. Power.
Benevolence. Destiny.
Just one more body.
Just one more royal cause.
They don't mind dying for you.
They will become martyrs;
You will become their god.
They call him a tyrant.
No. That word will not be allowed
In his country.
But
The darkness grows within him,
Becoming him.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
Breath escapes my body,
Only to become encompassed
By the frigid, boreal winter.
I dare not sit lest my body stiffen,
And my mind bear my final moments
In ache and anguish.
The twilight holds a certain latent agitation.
Energy will seep past the horizon,
In the form of caressing rays of sunlight.
Before the world wakes,
I unravel what little protection
I had given my body against the bitter cold.
The cold stabs at my bare skin.
My legs lose feeling and buckle under me,
And the deep snow engulfs my body.
The world is embracing me,
Accepting my valiant sacrifice.
I hear mother Earth sing a sigh of relief.
I finally realized my place within the universe:
A universe which I had always
accepted as home.
It was never my home.
I was always a guest here,
Willingly invited, yet overstayed.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC