Aphelion Issue 292, Volume 28
March 2024
 
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The Last Avatar of Light

by Michael Carl Musser


And the buzzards slowly dropped from the sky
As the last avatar sank to his knees to die;
Around him, a hundred bodies lay,
His life, a fitting price to pay.

But even with a hundred gone,
The Host would move on at dawn,
And so he drew a ragged breath,
Rose to his feet, and prepared to meet Death.

A step, then two, and then a quickened pace,
Moving faster, even though he was to lose this race;
Blood flowed from his mortal leg wound
While darkness baked at the devil's high noon.

He stumbled toward the glowing Gate;
The way to vent the Host's own immortal hate;
His sword sung and slashed the Gate in two
And then, what was his, came due.

The Host slowly gathered around the shattered gate
And stared at the lone avatar who had meet his fate,
And then, and then they began to laugh
For they would return, long, long after his epitaph.


© 1998 Michael Carl Musser

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