The Stranger
Above the decay that feeds this ground
A Destroying Angel strode and gazed around
His carrion birds careened in flight
Above the broken, spectral sight
Of the lost, abandoned city.
An ancient prophet counseled from his mountain,
"Drink not, my son, from the tainted fountain
That flows within that city's walls.
The blood yet wet within its sunken halls
Will poison all who walk its silent streets
With whisperings and dark deceits,
From Furies there shall come no pity."
The Stranger knew, and yet he came
To deliver its Infernal name.
Its people, strong and scornful of the Fates
Missed the traitor at their gates
Who for his price let in their doom
Turned their palaces into tombs.
As yet the air sings songs of violence.
Reflected in his empty eyes
There moved above the bloodied skies
Of sunset or of dawning.
His dusty boots rang through the yawning
Desolation past the city gates
Through which Hope fled to other states
To leave behind this awful silence.
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2008
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