Dark Hours
In sprite of these methods of prevention,
overwhelming despair underscores this effort.
Priests bare the omen on their souls,
sweating in the early hours of night.
Silent rituals, bizarre acts in desperation call for destiny.
Engraving on the flesh,
symbols and incantations to protect all.
Swirling clouds of deep black,
shattering the marble circle as the banshees feast.
Scars are medals many define the forms of demons.
Heroes find zero mercy,
rushing forth to battle’s fading hour.
Systematic slaughter of humanity and the angels,
scores of armies perform the scorched earth dance.
Dying spirits dwindles away
as weakness of the lines shift to and fro.
Penetration and desecration,
leaves a fear seared in the weary hearts of all.
Interdiction forces sever the lines of the Gods,
priests fall by the guillotine’s embrace.
Death is bountiful.
Dark hours lay ahead,
doomsday bell is about to ring.
