Standing before the gates
A pillar, a drawn sword, a wheel of flame
They trembled, naked, still just children
Lost, terrified by sudden unwanted knowing.

The birth of tragedy
They could but see only a short way
To the filling of their bellies
Shelter, solace in a sudden cruel world
Nothing further than the needs
Of their new, soft flesh.

I could see, for so it was given to me
All compassed within this earth
The befores and afters spreading
Along the paths their feet could tread
Laid bare to bone, open
Drawn apart as curtains upon a stage.

Their mouths would taste ashes
More often than mana
The hands if their unborn drip red
Generations feasting upon themselves
The locusts with scorpion stings
Buried deep in feet of clay
Because it is their nature.

The sky before my vision blackened
Bruising the brand new dawn
Only days from birth
Choked with grease and soot
Rendered flesh offered to The Name.

As they turned to go
Feet ragged from thorns
Their multitudes if children
Flaying the skin from their backs
Strangling each other with their cords
My vision blurred
Tears of flame burning upon my cheeks.

I have been alone before the gates
As is my purpose, the lock for which
There is no key, save his clemency
Yet I know, as surely as my tears still fall
There will be no mercy.


One Response to “Uriel”

  1. Wonderfully passionate, descriptive and emotional as always.

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