Ashen Echoes
#4 of Journey of the Shadow Archive
The Darkness howled in echoing shade.
It crept and slithered down spines with its icy touch.
Its hands trace down the warm with its frosted fingers,
Like winter snakes trying to find their way of salvation.
The Darkness woefully washed in the wells into waste.
The cries of children wailed for their parents.
Their parents trekked away to find water away from the wasted wells.
The madness screamed and cried in the minds of the children,
It prattled and it rattled,
It danced in their fragile glass minds,
In glass minds of the children of those whom called themselves humanity.
Four flared phoenixes burnt into cinder as they watched the children.
They flapped their fingers, then they passed to sorrowful ash.
The crucified Christ covered the cross on the valley of ashes.
The glistening ashes of the phoenixes.
Crucified in hopes to bring back the wells from woefulness.
A sacrifice to possibly appease the heavenly gods above,
But, this only brought tears of madness that seeped through reality.
More madness and sorrow to the mortals bellow.
The mortal tears that sparked enmity.
Enmity that made the children of humanity snarl and bite.
To act primitive over the woeful wells their parents had sought.
Their disparity and dissimilarities that caused them to hurl blame at one another.
Then the blame became stones, then stones to swords, then swords to guns.
They raged war on the ashes.
Through the chattering of guns they will fade,
Like an ill wind of death,
They laid waste to each other.
Then, once the skies were streak with ash and blood,
And the bitter snow blanketed the dead.
The dead over the ashes of the phoenixes.
The only thing that stayed standing was the cross.
The crucified cross that held the Christ.
Then, the parents returned.
And they cried.
They cried and cried.
They cried in anguish and in woe to see that they had left their children to die.
There were broken hearts, and woeful tears,
Dead bodies that had been laid to waste on ashes.
Children claimed by death,
Like trophies among a collector.
Their souls in death's arms,
Their bodies laid on ashen soil.