The battle is over.
The war has just begun.
With night comes The Darkness,
With The Darkness comes despair -
And, She is a lover of despair;
She is an envier of virtue;
She is a purveyor of peversity;
She is the retreating whisperer -
Who whispers into the hearts of men.
I walk amongst the dead, and the dying -
Fallen comrades, brothers -
Once friends, once fathers, once lovers
Ever true to their convictions;
Believing in a shallow cause;
Fighting for that cause;
Dying for that cause.
Darkness veils my vision -
The stars appear faint, distressed;
The crimson moon maniacal;
I discern shapes and shades and shadows;
Faceless, nameless in the grim gloom of nite;
I hear the abysmal screams of the doomed -
Guttural groans, tormenting moans;
Woeful whimpers of anguished souls.
My teeth grind hideously at the dissonance
Surrounding me, reverberating through
my body -
My bones! My head! Eyes shut! Jaws clench!
Disconnected souls like wisps of
smokeless fire
Crying out in angst for reciprocity
To their disaffected, lifeless bodies.
Hush now! Listen! -
Listen and you will hear! Hush now!
Muddled, murky memories of a time bygone;
A life bygone; time wasted; life wasted -
A life less love less laughter less lust less
Likely to feel alive again! Hush now!
Never to touch or taste or breathe -
Ah! To breathe! Such a simple affair, yet
Fatal when its no longer there!
The air reeks of hostility, hatred, humiliation
Arousing my awareness, my senses -
The sharp stench of burnt bodies;
The sickening smell of charred corpses.
Foul! Nauseating! Repugnant!
Bodies strewn about a bloodied battlefield
Like fallen chesspieces - checkmate!
Blinded by the depth of the dreary darkness
I fumble and I fall and I grab and I grope
Over and amongst and between forms
Maimed, mutilated, massacred -
Sacrifices for shallow sentiments!
I wish for the Light -
But with the Light comes certainty, clarity;
I wish not for certainty; I wish not for clarity,
For it leads to realization-regret-reproach;
And The Darkness, hateful, spiteful, vengeful
Wraps her cloak around the coming dawn
Resenting, resisting, reviling The Light.
A mournful morning-mist approaches
Drifting like a shroud over cold corpses -
Glazed, sightless eyes stare accusingly at
The heavens, never to behold its glory again;
Never to hear or be heard; never to see
Or be seen - distant memories fluttering
Away like butterflies in a brisk breeze.
With dawn comes The Light,
And with The Light comes hope -
I revel in the illumination as it purifies
My penitent soul, quenches my parched
Spirit, while The Darkness bitterly retreats
Into her shadowy recesses.
Triumph! Jubilation! Commemoration!
The battle is over!
Whose war has just begun?
©
©nomad
D