Aphelion Issue 275, Volume 26
August 2022
 
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Black Fantasy

by James Dye


I am the avenger of blood
seeking slayers of the loved;
longing for the long lost;
waiting to be judged.

I'm trapped in the boundaries of the towns I've fled.
Here, in a battle in the forest of the twilight. Here,
slicing through the mist and tears for years, forever plighted near
wicked horrors, the endless terror, of my dismal blade.
Whoever stands will stumble over corpses this has made.

This blade I wield against conspiracy,
was smelted from my fateful misery,
against this mystery which holds life still;
a mission from God, an oath to fulfill.

Unsheathed for eternity,
Infinity, it seems, it sees so clearly
the devil is on every path.
In every scene, an evil wrath;
an evil fiend; the most unclean,
bathed in the blood of innocent kings.
People who were to lead us to freedom,
are now once loved. A revery, freedom.

My quest impassioned,
I vow to bastion, heaven's gates from hell. I
battle dreary shadows, held, by demon's wicked spells.
They gather souls, to be sold, into the abyss of hell.
Down a hole, the dragon's gold, felled into wishing well.

A pitfall warriors come to to prove their worth;
to the spider's keep, here, on the beast's Earth.
All have fallen, all are doomed, who come to this twisted tomb,
except for one in all of you. Whose coming is,is never soon.

A forest of clouds rise into the twilight of the Earth.
A full moon. devises to illuminate the blood of the herd.
Here, dogs will lick up theirs. "You must not murder!"
I cry out to the curs.

Now the high priest must die.
My whip lashes out and I take his eye.
"An eye for an eye! I show thou no pity.
Thou Slayer have reigned in the blood of my city!"

"You tear off angel's wings.
My sweetheart, you see, she will never sing.
Thouest stung my soul too deep!
And for this my foe, I have come to reap."

An arrow knows the heart it seeks.

Now from me, my sword departs.
A soft song cries into the breeze
whistling for the sky to see
my faith is not a mystery.

"This is the end your sorcery cannot mend!"
The blade shines forth, my handle lost therein.
And he saw so faintly that inner glimmer.
A sparkle in my eyes did glow a shimmer,
the burn of flame has shown
and everything he thought he'd known
of demons and the Earth he quoth,
was slain by misery, a mystery.
He enters now Black Fantasy.

I hack him limb from limb.
Another demon dead whose life will never end.
It's so unreal the pieces left, incinerate to dust.
His name is never heard again, so I'll mutter thus:
"He fluttered like the Raven did. His name is Nevermore.
The world is rid to nail the lid. He burns in Earth's core."


© 2009 James Dye

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