Aftermath Of A Dream

By: Agrias Posted on: February 01, 2007

I had the strangest dream last night,
Of a Sapience that was engulfed in this terrible light,
Calm now, my children, please sit there, tight,
And I'll dictate to you of that horrible sight.

The highways and roads were broken and bad,
There were no footfalls on those lonely pads,
No new ones, with nets, and butterflies glad,
No totems, or vivisects on which to feel sad.

No falcons abandoned, or snakes in the way,
No canvas backpacks, or bombs coloured gray.
No chariots or eagles, thrown in disarray,
No Patches, the Kitten, left to frolic and play.

Shallam, to the East, lie broken and bare,
No more Knights in Her temple, no more sounds in the air.
Even in Azdun, in Zsarachnor's Lair,
No more sounds of Adventurers, treading through there.

The statues in Hashan, had fallen down to the ground,
And the Altar of Peace had found truth in its sound.
No more longswords in forges, no more hammers to pound,
No more laughing in Delos on the merry-go-round.

Cyrene's mighty bells, that would chime out the time,
Were silent and still, as a Harlequinn's Mime.
In Ashtan, no graffitti on roadside or sign,
No more whips in the Market, no more waiting in line.

Eleusis, the treetops were darkened and brown,
And the dryads themselves, in their sorrow did drown.
All the forests as dead as the life of the town,
All that's left in the Aalen is a rusted, old crown.

Mhaldor remained as it always had been;
Proud of corruption, and hatred therein.
No more slaves left to shackle, of the Mhuns' only kin...
Just a cold, barren place, free of pain love or sin.

I gazed at this horror in muted surprise,
Hoping that somewhere, that something would rise...
I was met only stillness, in deafening reprise,
I thought it must be a trick of the Father of Lies.

I awoke to the sound of the owls outside,
My heart beating faster and fear in my eyes...
What a wonderful, glorious, golden surprise!
In a few lonely hours, the sun would then rise!

"This is what happens", I tell them and weep,
"No more life for intrepid travellers to seek,
No more Houses, or smiting, or duties to keep,
No more talk in the new of molesting the sheep,
So take well this, my childrean, the advice I so reap,
This is all what would happen...if all of Achaea would sleep."