A short description of how the masters of terror are created.


The black soul

 

Arriving upon the field of battle,
the four colours of mine destiny;
stand alone in the fog of war,
circling;
awaiting.

The first two,
Black and White;
Stand facing each other.
Hope and despair,
Collapsing upon each other;
Snapping,
Biting,
tearing at each other's flesh.
Collapsing in;
They swirl in a ball of mist;
Until Despair closes around hope;
In a ball of impenetrable past memories.

Red and Blue;
Then converge upon each other,
Evil and Good,
Power and Speed,
Zipping and turning;
Out-manoeuvring each other at every turn;
Until Good closes around Evil;
In a mist of impenetrable light and energy.

Standing now alone;
Upon a battlefield;
Of bloody gore and hate,
Good and Despair face each other;
There Glowing eyes destroying each other's minds.
They collide;
In a fiery explosion;
Of hate, confusion, good, evil,  kindness and  Hope.

When he emerges;
A black soul,
Of fire
And pure evil,
Out of the fiery depths of hell;
Steps out the monster,
Me.





Poetry by Ryker-Lei Glasgow
Read 1058 times
Written on 2008-11-29 at 17:21

Tags Fire  Hate  Monsters 

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Kathy Lockhart
you had me captivated and caught up in the representations. It was like a fire ball rolling down hill. I just stood there watching, amazed. And then the last line was chilling. You have a talent of your own but I see the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree. : ) kathy
2008-11-30


Eva
very beautiful. i love the words you use
2008-11-29