The teeth of those who hunger grow,
Mouths outnumber the substance so,
Some of them turn to eating stones.
Some bite others in their death throes.
There is a light in the distance they choose not to see.
Then they contemplate the darkness saying: “How can this be?”.
Dead or living it matters not,
From the tomb, for both, pours rot. A raven points to the gateway,
Leading further down or away?
The light is hazy. Clouded by smoke?
A voice breaks the tortured din. Who spoke?
He says: “I cannot hold this candle for long.
Follow me to the path where you truly belong.”
Note on artwork: I found this one while browsing Tumblr. There were no links to the artist responsible. If anyone knows the artist name please let me know so that I may contact and formerly request permission to use their art. Thank you 🙂
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged alive, candle, darkness, dead, din, horror, hunger, poetry, raven, teeth, tomb, tortured
Introduction: For those unfamiliar with Magic: the gathering and its lore, the following is a brief retelling of some part of the main events in the Eldrich Moon storyline. Emrakul is the most powerful of three eldrazi titans; the other two have already been destroyed by the Gatewatch. She was worshipped as a god on the world she was previously imprisoned, the inhabitants having forgotten over a period of thousands of years what she actually was. Each of the three titans bend reality and effect the world in certain ways, Emrakul does this by corrupting and mutating all living matter, transforming it into her twisted brood.
I’ve intended this piece to be written from a bards point of view, perhaps a retelling many years after these events have unfolded. The accompanying card images are those from the game that have inspired this poem. I love the game and love the lore. I hope you enjoy this one as it was a fun write. 🙂
It of this horrid swarm and the sanity that it does encroach,
From within to burst forth; from a smaller one it grows.
It may be said to be of forgotten gods and their reproach,
Evident of the many in its wake; the corpses below.
The ancient mother brings the Mockery and the Deep-Fiend,
And such as those that ride as one to prey upon the uncorrupted.
The swarm of horror that’s gone before, by any can be seen,
How their forms become confused and then convoluted.
All of sanity, all coherent thought gone.
From the ancient mother nothing is hidden,
Her cultists sing an unrecognizable song
That pulls, and from the blind eternities she’s bidden.
There are few able to fight them, these are the ones who watch.
This swarm of horrors spells the end of this world soon,
But if they succeed and their plans remain unbotched,
The swarm will be defeated and their mother will become imprisoned in the moon.
Note on the artwork: As I was unable to contact the appropriate parties for permission on using the preceeding artworks, I request that Wotc or other owners of said art not to c/d me. 🙂 However should the owners of aforementioned art so desire I will respectfully remove said artwork/images. That being said, I do not believe I have used the card art out of context and am just a fan retelling a story in my own way. 🙂
Posted in story
Tagged confuse, convolute, cultist, EldrichMoon, emerge, Emrakul, fantasy, horror, Innistrad, Moon, mother, MTG, poetry, sanity, swarm
A suicide of angels.
One would from this angle
Wish their eyes were deceiving,
untrustworthy little orbs.
Their ears fearfully confirming
What their eyes see as burning,
But still what their brains cannot absorb.
All the while he is smiling
The one who, from afar, beguiling
Their denial into crying,
Terrifying panic, and insane rancor.
Oh! For the angels that should not have died before!
Then his smile betrays a clue.
This suicide of angels cannot be true!
What horror has been left for me and you?
The damage is done and he knows it.
Perhaps a wound impermanent, but who can close it?
Surely father time has no such tourniquet.
Now there is work to be done, stitches to sew.
What does the future hold? Who can know?
Once healed, these scars will follow us so,
We must do our best,
And learn to let go.
A note on the art:
I found this painting while browsing Tumblr, and could find no link to the artist. If you know the original artist please post a name or link in the comments below so that I may contact him/her to properly request permission for using their piece in my blog. Thank you. 🙂
Posted in Life (or something like it)
Tagged angel, brain, eye, Future, heal, horror, panic, poetry, rancor, scar, wound