Ode to Oblivion

[The King Of The Moon 5121]

Vienne was haunted. Parts of the city already in rubble, silence clung to the abandoned capital only interrupted by the occasional scampering of vagabonds looting what homes and stores hadn't already been ransacked. Turmoil and decay had claimed this once thriving bastion of men.

 

Blood stained her streets, her throne lay empty. And what aspects of her stone lay untouched were crushed between the weight of onlookers' expectations: what might've been? What will be? An unearned nostalgia lurked around every corner of the young ruin.

Incongruent to this atmosphere - yet ultimately, unremarkable - was a poem. A self indulgent scrawling etched above citizen doors that'd begun to rust:

 

Ode to Oblivion

 

This world is ablaze with time.
Hellfire yearns for us deep below
And here madmen in white shriek
Of Seven Skies the colour snow

 

And above: stars and angels,
Demons, and Horrors past the Veil.
Neither up nor down I am destined,
No more shall I laugh nor wail.

 

Past the Moon and Creation
Further still beyond space and time
The Black God awaits me, in his infinite nest    
Where I shall be his, and he mine.

 

Weep not for me. This door shuts
And locks away the universe I knew,
A dreamless slumber comes not just
For this lone magpie, but you.

 

The author was nowhere to be found... Though whoever he was, he must've come to terms with the Black God in the void which awaited him.
 

[argonian 12837]

 

[Sanziene 71]