Sanguine Painted Snow
Thundering caresses my ears.
Sastruga, distant and sparkling;
snowflakes dance a Sarabande
across the frozen desert.
The once white landscape is stained sanguine,
animated flesh bloated in eternal heat.
These soulless remains fought,
bound by a blood oath.
Sanies seep from long earned wounds.
The wind sails past carrying a putrid odor.
Those scatty men were also savants,
and their tale is told like this-
Once were the son's of farmers, we
Lost now for mortal eyes to see.
Sanguinary spread through our land,
it is then the time turner of life began to lose sand.
We erupted from our fathers grasps.
In judgment, it was our only lapse.
We trained hard for many nights;
preparing ourselves for what was to be our only fight,
and if this tale isn't evident enough:
You should know; our strength was only a fatal bluff.
We left our bodies long ago
That is the last of the tale I know.
As I stand here now and whisper these words,
a light mizzel begins to fall.
Frozen long before drops begin to touch the tip of my blue nose.
This is a tale to be told to all,
To prevent the prophecy of mankind's fall.
~akiko44~
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