Iceveldt VI – The Citadel

Sarel Theron

In isolation a tower rose
snow blanketed
guilt driven
denial cementing the foundations
the lonely citadel ringed in impassable mountains and desperate secrecy
a last hope
a last stand
a last futile punch aimed at the inevitable
as the living gathered their knowledge and meager resources
to scratch tirelessly in the dirt
to unearth a solution
the scribes and scientists huddled in knots
reviewed and revisited the ancient texts again and again
and once again
but in the end defiance withered
the final pages were blotted and the last lament rose
clear and winged like a sparrow
rising into the fading light
singing softly over and over the songs which held our story
holding hands through the long night
until the closing note
the mountains fell silent for even the wind had bowed
to that slowing moment
as the world gathered in one last breath

and stopped

the eternal twilight began
deep thoughts
deep thoughts
dark thoughts carried forever
sailing forever

*artwork by sarel theron*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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