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Mar 2015
Screams were heard out in the pastures
and came a horizon much like ash on the hearth
Shadows moved infinitely
The sounds grew diminutively
The prelude to the rapture of the earth.

The Dead caught quickly to the masses of souls
Hailing words and weapons of demonic origin
Carrying the faces of no strangers
Those once loved threaten dangers
Of what was human, but now suffused in sin.

Lives flooded the pathways ‘tween houses
Terror coated their faces like a blinding veneer
The feeble fell sprawled
Crushed in panic by all
Those they had once cherished and trusted so dear

“The most primitive of emotions begets the bonds once made
when one would gladly **** their child to live another day.”


The hooded figure had spoken this truth to the King
In a voice so trustful, endearing, yet cold
“A miracle, for you, can be given
To save men, women, and children
But I will take the most precious of treasures you hold.”

The King gave no reply in the earnest of propositions
Yet rendered this a miracle none could pass.
“Only in exchange for a treasure,
One of your choosing- my pleasure,
But of my most precious, what could you possibly ask?”

From under the hood came an un-ethereal voice
“Your soul shall be all that I’ll need...”
With fiery sparks and a turn
The fabric had burned
Exposed his dark presence- Mephistopheles.

A deal with the darkest of Princes bodes endless misery
“Your God has forsaken you; your destiny now  lies with me.”

The King fell down to his knees in despair
For his life, his Kingdom could be spared
“You’d take my life and not my kingdom
My people must have their freedom.
For such, no misery in your hell could ever compare.”

Mephistopheles erupted with such contentment
The Kings folly- pure, innocent and bare
Without sound or sight
The King’s soul, crushed pure light
Mephistopheles disappeared in a dark wisp of air...

-End of Part III-
The Kingdom, the Army, and the Dead (Poetic Prose- Trilogy)
Neal Emanuelson
Written by
Neal Emanuelson  Amsterdam, Netherlands
(Amsterdam, Netherlands)   
431
 
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