The palace is red tonight
Bathed with subtle moonlight
All the darkened doors and sharpened spires
Forged by man's darker desire
Hold their imperceptible breath
The weary king and queen are left
To ponder an ancient query:
"How shall we endure the night?"
For the other men march and come
Ever closer, with their ignorant drum
And the proud spires of the palace
Stand at odds with the prouder and callous
Faces of men, with their banners unfurled
Shrieking as children overthrowing the world
Their eyes, reddened by the moon, saw
Nothing else but a great fall
Of the palace, and the horror of
An infamous siege and fight.
The prince sat still in his luxurious room
As he sighed against the impending doom;
His mind was fixed on the singular truth
That the palace will fall, walls and roof
Torn down, with not a single stone
Left the mark the kingdom's lone
Castle, standing against the beasts
In the shroud of darkness and fading light.
He turned his gaze to the lofty spheres
And, amidst these visions and fears,
The amber grin of the slit of a moon
Mocked the prince; sneered and said, "Soon,
Very soon, your kinsmen will perish
Your legacy will end, so mourn and cherish
Ev'ry fleeting moment of your mortal life
Before your bleeding heart wets the cruel knife
And you are forgotten, left in the mud
Where spiders crawl into your flesh and bite.
"I, however, will survive 'till daybreak
'Till tomorrow, and 'till the sun wakes
From his slumber, and ends the refrain
Of this glorified rock, when all pain
Will be replaced with silence. You will not
Live to see what your meager death has wrought
I am the unchanging power of the air;
You are dust with no glory or might."
As soon as the reddened moon finished his speech,
The anguished prince let out a screech,
But as his outcry echoed and rung
Out, a shriller whistle joined the song
And, in an instant, an arrow pierced through
His muscles, nerves, veins, and sinews.
He fell onto the red carpet, the first death
Of a battle that drowned many in River Lethe.
The once-great palace then crumbled, stone by stone,
As the grinning moon ascended to its height.
The palace is red tonight
Bathed with blood so trite.