Legend

[smokingboot]

Once, a shaft of sunlight pierced through hell
loud like a trumpet, gentle as a lamb
or butterfly that dreams of oaken glades
And every penitent locked in the dark
looked at the dancing motes, the glittering beams
And even Lucifer fell to his knees,
his diamonds scattered in the melting ash.
He too prayed, not for day's end or release,
forgiveness, or to spin the wheel of time
back to the sparkling edge of aeons lost
and purity renewed. Not for a crown of stars
and enemies crushed at his feet, not for the world
locked in obeisance to his sceptre's ire,
war-riven. No, all his prayer was
that the spring light might not fade in the deep,
but breathe across the wasteland like a song.
That honeybees might hover and bring life
to petals eaten long ago by dust.
That somewhere,a kind bird, of liquid joy
might spill a note into the cruel abyss,
defy despair and herald paradise.
So all the adversary craved to love
was everything Man broke or threw away
in the pursuit of mediocre dreams
to made himself hell's throne upon the earth.