Daegal

Rookie (16.03.89 / Doncaster, England)

Under Pain Of Salvation - Poem by Daegal

Though just one man was sitting alone in
His shaky hut, far beyond the reach of
This truth’s extensive grip, there was a green
Tidal breeze which brought with it, the sandy
Lungful of the desert’s orange sheen, while
The wine-dark ocean lapped along the coast.

How the sun’s lazy crossing of purple
Heaven was measured, making sizzling
Heat of the day linger, turning ev’ry
Second into an age. The shadow
Cast by the shed in the wobbling, barren
Heat had died. It never moved, it lay still.

Easing silently, he twisted a cord
Around his hand absently, and the three
Circles he made with it seemed like a
Headless serpent’s body, coil’d in either
Rest or slaughter, you could never tell by
Their selective, deceiving, killing gaze.

Many eons now, he sat and looked out
Upon an invisible whirlwind which
Twisted and danced majestically in
The applauding sandstorms which whipped in a
Frenzy, searching for encore in the air
Which tumbled and cascaded magic’lly.

Armies often stepped out from the sky, but
Only he was there to witness. He shrieked
To no-one out of madness, but he
Muttered endlessly to some apparent
Companion, that he had seen enchantment
Pass by with five golden charioteers.

Never seen before by the eyes of the
Living, the sands were woven by ghostly
Six-fingered grips. The hands ran through with ease,
Scooping and dropping the land, sculpting some
Great monument from the dusty earth, a
Grand image of divine passion and zeal.

Still sitting vaguely, he was sunken eyed
And crying tears of dirty patterns down
His tattooed cheeks. The desert was moulded
Even now as three short towers were made,
Then a larger, more fantastic one which
Stood in the centre, the seventh soaring.

An octagonal moon had replaced the
Blistering sun, and the heat turned to an
Inescapable cold, but the man was
Still sitting, still watching, still crying. His
Tears were dried with haste, however as a
Tearing, shredding draught ripped throughout his home.

While he watched, he saw life begin to thrive
About the recent city which had been
Carved form the very ground. He saw humans
Go about as though they lived for the nine
Ages of life. Chaos, Fear, Anger, Time,
Relief, Service, Honour, Deceit and Death.

Grinding about, ignorant, the place looked
As though it had existed for decades,
Perhaps it had, time was not a factor
Here. But then the man who had so simply
Watched its creation, turned insane. His eyes
Were locked as he couldn’t focus them fast.

On the scene, a titanic, hidden weight
Crashed, eleven million years of trials
Destroyed, flattened by a massive hand. In
The midst of the mayhem, the man could have
Kept his mind somewhat quickly tied and then
Wagered his lunacy upon his ears.

Deathly quiet, the sound of a restless
Sigh blended with the wind. The city was
No more, the wilderness as it had been,
Aridly flat and dully infinite.
What this man saw was never spoken of,
And the twelve stars for the months laughed at him.

End.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, September 1, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 31, 2010


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