Hieroglyph 15

Hieroglyph 15

I have forebodings of great inconsequence in the wreckage of this world
A disharmony of the soul that neither impels nor constrains
An unease that flees not from itself nor brings the like of its kind into communion with our being.
A strange wrath clings to me here
And the sententious dictator of my heart coerces acquiescence to life's collective destruction.

The warrior rises unsummoned
The steel longs for the baptism of blood

Let dream mind's nobility
And visions of order from brooding chaos
The cloud is upon us here
And from its darkness shall (not) light return.

Previously Published

© John A. Youril