Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Abyssal Maw

From darkness it rises,
All enveloping
Twin crescent pools of pitiless silver
That rest
Above an Abyssal Maw;
Needles and knives shift along
Chitin and bone,
Set deep back into a skull
Like so many men past
After years of six-deep rest.

The moons judge
Quivering yet unwavering
Seeking an answer to a question
Not yet asked.
The skull drifts closer, slinking along the warm current
A curtain of shimmering hair hovering silently in it’s wake.
The Abyssal Maw widens,
Teeth pulling back as the jaw creaks
A silent scream echoes through the water

The question now asked,
I try and find the words to reply.
The Abyssal Maw drifts ever closer,
A sinuous body of dreadful scale
And hardened bone that
Push it ever closer to me.
Closer to an answer I do not have.

This flower of the macabre is now close enough
For the moons to be mirrors
Showing me what I truly am
And for what I can be.
I have my answer, as does it.
If by the way the head rears back
Into a cloud of beauty can show me.

Like an arrow fired
Into a starless
The Abyssal Maw darts away into

A rush of warmth
And shame
Washing over me
As I watch it swim away

The Abyssal Maw
A creature as old as it
Is young

Has judged me
And I have


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