Month: February 2017

Her Train Of Fire

They rose out of the shadows;

dressed in  cloaks as dark as the abyss. Seven;

walking across the dirt,

torches a lit in a ceremonial circle .

They chanted;

dropping to the floor

banging against the ground like a warrior drum;

dirt flying. Chanting;

they sang.

From the center she rose with a dress made of fire.

Flames dancing;

everlasting flame.

They parted;

Allowing her to pass with her train of fire.

Her hair red as blood;

and skin pale like the cruelest winter.

She could hear the snarls in the darkness.

Approaching the darkness, fearless and unforgiving.

She moved them with the wave of hand;

for the battle had already begun.

One by one,

the figures in cloak rose relieving themselves of their cloth.

The elements of the universe;

weapons in hand.

They clashed with the  demons, so many– clawing at their flesh.

They fought endlessly…

She looked around seeing her comrades all slain on the ground. 

Their river of blood.

She fell to her knees;

as she was struck by a demon.

She crawled; 

the demon clenching  onto her ankle.

She dragged them with her.

Her hands slapping against the cold barren dirt.

They cut her with their nails;

slashing at her skin drawing her blood.

She lifted her head;

ready to give up and from the dark sky came a light.

With a flash;

a sword landed by her filthy hands.

She climbed the sword;

cutting her hand and using the handle to lift to her feet.

She turned,

and with a swift swing–

she cut at the demon that was holding her leg.

She turned;

running towards the cluster of demons.

They screeched;

as they saw her wings extend;

and her sword of justice on fire.

She ran,

screaming and slashing through the wall of demons

revealing light.

Through the slice; a hand.

She grabbed it and pulled out more angels.

They were birthed through the hole of demons;

and they all devoured the darkness.

 

https://rosescripts.wordpress.com/2017/01/26/the-moon-sun/ 

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The Mighty Wind

In the beginning the sun shined for me

The birds sang and its song bounced off the spears of grass

A rose had blossomed;

Bright and scented.

The mighty wind tearing off my petals;

Flying in a whirlwind of chill;

Fast—scraping against branches.

Landing on river stones and taken by the high tide;

I floated, somehow the sun still…shining.

The strong wind blew;

But I twirled dancing in all my glory.

I was lifted from the waters by a small child

The wind tried once more;

But I was protected by sweet hands.

It laid me in the garden;

I rested and released the seed I desperately held onto;

With the wind howling with all its might;

I laid in the dirt content for I will be born again.

 

https://rosescripts.wordpress.com/2017/01/26/the-moon-sun/