A Land of War and Poetry

Before the Great Burning, before the wars
A time of nothing, but hills and shores
The smoke of cities, and fields of rye
No eyes or voices beyond the sky

Believers roamed from town to town
They spied every baby born, up and down
Scouring the land for a child to use
And ponderous, esoteric clues

A crumbling black city, an outcast found
Father a monster, mother under the ground
A beggar, a mongrel, a boy with no shoes
He fell to their hands to cage and abuse

And lo! in the month of darkness
And lo! his name destroyed
And lo! he still whispers in silence
And lo! he went into the void

They were drawn to a light, a waning gray
His face was blank he had nothing to say
He watched and waited, they painted his eyes
They colored his clothing with pigments and dyes

They found a path away from the light
To an ancient tree withered by blight
A sacred altar, encircled in stones
Twin blades of bronze, sharpened on bones

And lo! in the month of darkness
And lo! his name destroyed
And lo! he still whispers in silence
And lo! he went into the void

In the Month of Darkness, seasons destroyed
A ritual killing bound his spirit to the Void
Eyes drained of color, the beggar no more
To become what the Believers waited for

They set him outside, beyond the spheres
Quiet as the night, long like the years
He opened his eyes, as black as a dream
Trying to speak, his only words a scream

And lo! in the month of darkness
And lo! his name destroyed
And lo! he still whispers in silence
And lo! he went into the void