Ritual by Rote – a (longer) poem

Disturbance of the aether mayst spell doom

In the temple hall where breed thick and viscous

Smokes and mingled blood of a century

And more besides, priests with hassled robes,

Vestments of sordid rituals held as example.

*

Questions go unheard, ideally, at best, lest

The Watchers hear what a hierarchy wishes for

None to speak of, voicers of dissent stormed

Upon for beliefs, singular ideas surprisingly shared

Amongst a populace afraid to opinions voice.

*

In the smoky halls where dusty throngs gather,

Of silken robes and wizened faces, hidden lives

Lived inside of coverings, there arrives another,

Ruiner was their secret moniker, known by malice

Maleficent with inside eyes long darkened.

*

Advertisements