Alexander Zalan

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Kami-No-Yo

The barrens of relinquished heroes,
The forlorn whimsy of the myths,
The mirth and ruth of paltry widows,
Have vanquished realms from the cliffs.

A tarnished hilt of scattered glory,
Paraphernalia of times,
The gods unsheathed the seals of story,
And quenched the edge off beamy chimes.

An iridescent, lucid island,
Has oozed from sword that cleaves the pace,
Perpetuating woe of silent,
Protruding subjugated space.

Embellishment of girdling fables,
Contemptuous and vivid scent,
As if forsaken mould of stables,
Commenced equivocal ascend.

The land back then rejoiced the wonders,
Of valour, reverence and glee,
But there is always one who plunders,
Despite extortionate fee.

And lairs swarmed with the demons rife,
With pious monks and ruthless knaves,
Presumptuous was their zeal to strife,
Though it is dawn that heals and saves.

Regardless of pernicious throng,
And abnegations so obscure,
Serenity will prove it wrong,
And opalescent reign will lure.

The sizzling echo of disdain,
Will shed the avalanche of gore,
The most obnoxious will remain,
Implacably enhancing soar.

Upon the gilded gleam of blink,
The banners will replenish hue,
And crows will lament with the ink,
For those they cherished, nurtured, knew.

The deities will claim their throne,
Through phytome of hourglass,
Through shrines and nature's lukewarm tone,
Through callous void, omitting brass.

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