Along the path of blood and bone
The wrath of war had there been shown.
Thick the jungles perilous sway
Where moans of perishing souls guide the way.
The corpses of a 1,000 sing their final breath
Before descending unto death.
Darkened woods amid the silent wind
The vultures sing to every thumping chest.
As friend and foe lye beneath trees shaky bend
A ray of light now lingers from the west.
Brighter than a raging fire
Casting hope in eyes of despair.
Beneath the whisping leaves illumined the ****** mire An oceanic melody begets among the midnight air.
“Afar this light from a goddess a beauty gleam?”
Speaks a man in bitter glee against a rotten bow.
Though wonted silence dispute his sight and sound as a dead mans dream.
The thickened air grips his lungs and hope returns to woe.
Broken legs and a shattered wrist
Writhing away with a punctured chest.
Death... his fate he kissed.
The silver veil of the moon he did attest.
A bright blue aura thickened and grew, charming to the sight.
“Child, do not crown thy head with thorns of death.”
A voice void of body spoke soft from the radian light.
Quick he welled to draw a final breath: “Yemanya?”
“Hither to me, so I may kiss the suns wedded twin
And caress me with thy luminal skin.”
Silence sounded yet again.
As every moan subsided slowly
The blue haze descended from the light.
“How may a being arrive to a sight so unholy.”
Then a manifest angelic force spoke in her precious might.
“Do not fret, it is thy goddess, Yemanya.”
With a hand from the silken misted skin
Caressing his wounds so from death he may be free.
Full in form manifest, beauty of body and sight, that hath not yet been.
With her warm embrace
She kissed his face.
Free now from his deadly ill
Guided to the ocean by the aura, through his newfound will.
Saved from the ravaged land
He closed his eyes and clutched the wetted sand.
The angelic sight did now leave
But in remembrance
The moon held bright, in light of Yemanya.