26.12.2015 г., 19:51 ч.

The Birth of Father Time 

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I was a man before I lost it all

I ran and sang and danced,

The die, however, as I recall

Made of blood and bone, was cast.


The hate for them and theirs was great, a leper of the soul,

I grew to be a man of fear, of anger, of contempt.

So a device I made, to seal their fate, and precipitate my goal,

I bound them all to a scheme of time, not one of them exempt.


Corruptive in its touch, it made the flesh decay,

It made them weak,  it made them prey,

to the illusion of control.

Seduced and beguiled, they gave themselves away

To MY will, to MY sway!


I gave them time and took their souls as price,

Gorging, feasting on their boon.

They worshiped me, like humble mice,

taking shelter, building worlds in my cocoon.


The living shell I fast forsake

In a hole somewhere, by dirt and grime embalmed.

My malicious will now a vicious snake

Only by sacrifice can I be calmed.


From their eyes I watch, with their ears I hark,

Their collective mind my realm.

The truth of me, however stark,

will never overwhelm.


These fleas will never learn that I am they and we are one,

The final metamorphosis complete,

Our collective death will mean that none

could ever shun deceit.

© Немо Стилтскин Всички права запазени

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