Throw open the library of Ashurbanipal
The greatest collector of magical tomes
Whose secrets are hidden in the inner coils
Where stories assuage the curious eye
A quaint recipe for ale a putrid brew indeed
The paths are told in songs long forgotten
Sung with a slurring tongue in rounds
The golden child resurrected from the fire
gazes upon a weary world rambunctious
When at the appointed moment carnage rises
He will claim his place high among the clouds
He will rule with an absolute gaze, true seeing
A thousand years to settle promises, debts
When the world will be ground to dust
And the few will run to hide in the wilds
To become again the lost people of the steppes
As they were in the ancient times long past

11/26/2019

Posted on 11/26/2019
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