An Empty Throne Part 6 of 9
An empty trance – part 6
He stood before the arching glass
as if by angel’s breath was blown
Her beauty lives though she may pass
of any goddess he had known
From there within a pocket slight
retrieved a vial of liquid blue
and raised it up into the light
so glistened in enchanted view
Upon his staff the gem it shone,
an emerald green did flood the room
Now closed his eyes in shimmered tone
with words now spoken, dark of gloom
“Return this beauty to her form
of daisy rush and willow feel
To cleanse the soul of poisoned storm
and sorrows cast as to reveal”
Into the chamber came the king,
he stumbled slowly to her side
“Dear Shaman let your magic sing,
without her love my heart has died”
The sorcerer he cast no glance,
unfazed in stoic manner seen
“She lives still in an empty trance
not hell nor heaven, in between”
“Our time is till the setting sun
For on that hour all is lost
As spirits call the precious one
A beckoning of lifeless cost”
He raised the vial, tilting so,
upon his fingers several drips
Again the gem topped staff did glow,
then place the liquid on her lips
“This can not be,” his salted ply
“She does not stir, she does not breathe,
As darkness wanders towards the sky
In amber moments to perceive
He placed a hand upon her head
to summon fact with tethered scan
“Where be the flask, her poisoned bled?”
A sentry set it in his hand
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016
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