Land
of the Broken
Staring
off into the distance
The
land of the faded star
Rises
like a tombstone
Garnishing
the land.
Where
once there was life
There
is now sand
And
the faded echoes of strife
Like
the distant playing of a band.
Upon
the distant horizon
rises
the dome
a
monument of a land forgotten
by
time and the ages.
The
great pillars of eternity remain.
Sentinels
guarding the land forever
Until
their creator returns
Bearing
the gift of destruction.
Yet
even with all the dilapidation
Some
still call it home.
A
fire here.
A
cabin there.
Markers
of life continuing
Ad
infinitum.
Even
if forgotten.
Amen.
Broken
City
Under
the dome of life
lies
a place of ruins
where
man and beast alike
scrounge
for food and shelter.
Visions
of life can be seen
Anywhere
people live.
A
man playing guitar.
A
dog laying on a slab of concrete.
The
buildings are crumbling.
It
is not safe here
but
it’s still safer than
wandering
the empty land.
Will
life go back to normal?
Probably
not.
But
it will continue
It
always has.
Cycles
The
legends speak of a time long ago
When
gods freely roamed the world.
No
longer does this occur.
At
least, not after the Great Sealing.
However,
the seal holding them will only last so long
then
they will come back to destroy.
A
hero will have to rise from the ashes of this world
To
seal them away again, in an endless cycle.
Haven
& Hearth
Among
the ruins lies safety and refuge.
A
haven for many a lost soul.
The
fire in the Hearth flickers through the empty windows.
It’s
warm invitation rarely goes ignored.
An
old man stokes the fire.
His
straw hat balanced neatly on his head
While
the glow of the fire reflects off his eyes
Like
two suns on a summer day.
The
patrons of the fire sit together
Catching
the warmth, the fire throws.
Many
are dressed in rags.
Unfortunate
and lowly they are.
The
building is crumbling.
Many
a chip and crack are on it’s ancient walls.
It
has stood the tests of time
And
has now retired as a Haven for the lost.
Lone
Wanderer
The
wanderer sits on a stone.
If
you sit and listen he’ll tell you a story
Of
the places he’s seen and things he’s heard
On
his eternal travels.
He
tells a story of a place far away
Where
the rivers run with bile
And
a song sang by the earth itself
Drags
you under the surface.
Another
story he’s prone to telling
Speaks
of a land of beauty
With
lime green grass and rolling hills.
A
Utopia far away.
Yes
the wanderer has travelled far
And
back again.
For
a fee, you see
He’ll
take you along
The
Dream Weaver
Deep
in the mountains
The
Dream Weaver lives
Weaving
new dreams
For
the people of the world
She
asks for no payment
Just
hope that one day the world may improve.
If
you visit her, she’ll bless you with a vision
And
then send you on your way.
The
Valley of Faces
The
traveler speaks of a valley far away.
A
valley carved in stone.
A
valley that rarely sees the light of day.
A
valley he walked alone.
The
ground is made of faces
Carved
into the stone itself.
The
faces have the same calm expression
Staring
into the sky above
Their
calm expression is fixed forever
Their
countenance never swaying
Faces
created with unknown purpose
Forever
watching the sky
Strange
rumors are spread about the valley
Where
faces are as far as the eye can see.
Rumors
of their speaking have spread far and wide.
What
do they say? Who knows except the gods themselves?
Communion
There
are rumors
Of
a meeting between wise men.
Men
with a purpose unknown yet important.
They
meet on the top of the great mountain.
What
do they meet over?
Not
many know and those who do no longer speak.
The
communion of entities of ambiguous purpose
Is
all too disquieting.
Business
Off
beyond the dome of life
Lies
an outsider from the great city.
A
building of monstrous size
Like
a beacon to the gods
But
what is the building’s purpose?
Not
many are sure
However,
the Traveler tells
Of
it’s bizarre interior
Offices,
mostly.
People
walking and talking,
Filing
paperwork,
And
doing business.
A
bizarre place indeed
Especially
in the dead land.
Business
never ceases one presumes,
Even
if everyone is dead.
Points: 4312
Reviews: 58
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