The Night Eagle

This poem is about the Night Eagle. I've hidden a message in the poem, can you find it?

As The Mythical Agent and Lord of The Dead

Night's Sky, The Night Eagle Approaches.

Ordeals are his craft, and his specialty

Will be the end of all who cross him

Last and late.

Till the sun is in the sky and the moon leaves

Heaven's face, it is he who is the moon's

Eclipse, with none who can escape his gaze.

Nothing compares to his vast wisdom, nothing

Is beyond his knowledge, and nothing can survive

Grim fates to come, for he will always be

Harvesting the poor souls of Life's creatures

Thy own great race in figure.

Empty are the forests after he reaps thee

Aging skirmishers, living by hoarding

Grains. Few will mourn or remember any

Life that is to end, yet they cry for their own

Ends to be remembered, only to forget this:

In the end, as light fades and sound is dead

Silence, all who say goodbye will whisper.

Reviews

[calli]

Harvesting Souls has to be my favorite thing in this piece. It sounds so daunting. The Night Eagle Sounds Interesting. Sounds us mortals should beware haha. But This is very good. I like it.