Those Who Fight

Listen then, these are the spells,

and I will see your magic extended

an inferno produced from the palm of your hands,

and then they stand

and then they stand,

an even dozen as they crowd the crypt

around the cardinal

with hands extended in silent benediction,

whispering of winter

and the coming snow.

They have walked from the wilderness

of my own making,

Chaos too real to countenance.
Vengeful words unknot the trail

with wayposts in the shape of

crowding boles and cairns

for the fallen,

who sprout like seeds

on the last day.

 

The future is lost

to the hatred you nurtured

in silence and stone,

sword tip held

to the throat

of the world of possibilities

they refused to believe in,

that they cheated!

with words emptier

than their souls.

And yet we stand,

refusing to be moved,

shoulder to shoulder,

fighting injustice

with flashing swords

and unyielding eyes

beside a silent river

of truth.

This world belongs to us.

Author's Note

I will post this on my main profile as well.