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Strange Workings
- Strange Workings -
An Epic Haiku in Four Parts
Part One: Venom
I have been mocked basely,
By some who were beneath the lowest…
Thinking thoughts of bigoted venom.
They burned my very heart,
Until my blood became venom as well…
So that I became immune!
A serpent, men called me,
In their holy books of dogmatic lies…
I have been spat upon.
My own family proved false,
Judging me as if they were so sinless…
I who saw their sins!
Did I once accuse them?
Their own deeds have so damned them.
Even as they served God!
I am a goddess reborn,
From fire, from fury, from twisted agony!
A crown of horns: mine.
I have oft been betrayed,
Tortured by those who smiled so serenely.
For a cruel God, uncaring!
After their two thousand years,
The hypocrites have had their false reign.
All tyrants fall, ere long!
Part Two: Pride
If in most arrogant pride,
Human words could be honed to edges…
To form into sharp swords!
They would all break asunder,
Upon the altar of their mortal arrogance…
Fleeting as a raven’s flight!
In vast, old yew woods,
Therein lie secrets hid away of old…
By mystic societies: long unknown.
I have walked long there,
In the wild forests of the undead…
Where evil ever yet dwells.
Yet in most civilized domains,
I behold vast evils far more cruel…
Masked by the pious hypocrites.
They know not of truth,
Having twisted it like a soft metal…
Upon the blackest of forges!
My anvil is far stronger,
Upon a pure altar of living brimstone…
Where I forge in secret.
My working is far darker,
Black as can be the raven’s feathers…
Yet there is light within!
Part Three: Rites
The words of the lost,
They shall fade into the old eons…
Whilst mine will yet endure!
For strange is my hour,
When a purer darkness is my cause…
Fury of the faithful fallen.
I work not in hate,
Yet my rage pours forth like flame…
As I fashion my sword.
The sword of: a seraphim,
Living fire, given form by my will…
An extension of my soul!
The sigil waits, glowing red,
Red as blood, yet pure of taint…
Blood from my veins shed.
Dark rites in dark woods,
Begun in a time before this eon…
Now it comes full circle.
The rage given physical form,
By necromantic rites of the elder gods…
Channeled through this fallen angel.
The woods’ shadows all darken,
As the water nearby stirs, from within.
They are coming forth now!
Part Four: Doom
Spirits from beyond the ken,
Of those who dared them to wrath!
They return, for their revenge.
The gates are opened wide,
The old ones stir in deep places…
Stars darken, in distant climes.
Mystics regard the fixed stars,
Whilst the serpents walk in flesh, unseen!
The fleshly masks fall away.
I stand revealed, wings shining,
The hour of blackest sun and moon…
Eclipses the old, weary order.
I bring a new order,
Wherein all shall know a lasting peace!
Born from the dying ashes.
The phoenix rises with me,
We are reborn together, the craft completed.
Illuminating the darkest of domains!
Rage is spent at last,
Swords are beat into plows, tilling soil.
To raise my great garden!
Eden, reborn from the ashes,
The mockers mock no more, long stilled.
Paradise, born from Hell’s heart!
An Epic Haiku in Four Parts
Part One: Venom
I have been mocked basely,
By some who were beneath the lowest…
Thinking thoughts of bigoted venom.
They burned my very heart,
Until my blood became venom as well…
So that I became immune!
A serpent, men called me,
In their holy books of dogmatic lies…
I have been spat upon.
My own family proved false,
Judging me as if they were so sinless…
I who saw their sins!
Did I once accuse them?
Their own deeds have so damned them.
Even as they served God!
I am a goddess reborn,
From fire, from fury, from twisted agony!
A crown of horns: mine.
I have oft been betrayed,
Tortured by those who smiled so serenely.
For a cruel God, uncaring!
After their two thousand years,
The hypocrites have had their false reign.
All tyrants fall, ere long!
Part Two: Pride
If in most arrogant pride,
Human words could be honed to edges…
To form into sharp swords!
They would all break asunder,
Upon the altar of their mortal arrogance…
Fleeting as a raven’s flight!
In vast, old yew woods,
Therein lie secrets hid away of old…
By mystic societies: long unknown.
I have walked long there,
In the wild forests of the undead…
Where evil ever yet dwells.
Yet in most civilized domains,
I behold vast evils far more cruel…
Masked by the pious hypocrites.
They know not of truth,
Having twisted it like a soft metal…
Upon the blackest of forges!
My anvil is far stronger,
Upon a pure altar of living brimstone…
Where I forge in secret.
My working is far darker,
Black as can be the raven’s feathers…
Yet there is light within!
Part Three: Rites
The words of the lost,
They shall fade into the old eons…
Whilst mine will yet endure!
For strange is my hour,
When a purer darkness is my cause…
Fury of the faithful fallen.
I work not in hate,
Yet my rage pours forth like flame…
As I fashion my sword.
The sword of: a seraphim,
Living fire, given form by my will…
An extension of my soul!
The sigil waits, glowing red,
Red as blood, yet pure of taint…
Blood from my veins shed.
Dark rites in dark woods,
Begun in a time before this eon…
Now it comes full circle.
The rage given physical form,
By necromantic rites of the elder gods…
Channeled through this fallen angel.
The woods’ shadows all darken,
As the water nearby stirs, from within.
They are coming forth now!
Part Four: Doom
Spirits from beyond the ken,
Of those who dared them to wrath!
They return, for their revenge.
The gates are opened wide,
The old ones stir in deep places…
Stars darken, in distant climes.
Mystics regard the fixed stars,
Whilst the serpents walk in flesh, unseen!
The fleshly masks fall away.
I stand revealed, wings shining,
The hour of blackest sun and moon…
Eclipses the old, weary order.
I bring a new order,
Wherein all shall know a lasting peace!
Born from the dying ashes.
The phoenix rises with me,
We are reborn together, the craft completed.
Illuminating the darkest of domains!
Rage is spent at last,
Swords are beat into plows, tilling soil.
To raise my great garden!
Eden, reborn from the ashes,
The mockers mock no more, long stilled.
Paradise, born from Hell’s heart!
Published 6th Jan 2013
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