Five
The prisoner in his hollow shell waits patiently
ignorant of his prison, expecting
darkness, accepting darkness
turning away the guard
when he is offered the key.
and death laughs grim at fate,
wearing a cloak of violence
and a splintered mask, split at the eyes
and hair. Black robes of ritual
hiding bright gleaming bone and faded scythe.
and silence waits behind clouded tears,
taming and calming in balanced
acts of peaceful screams. Knowledge and
action facing, expressionless, behind a painted face
and deep masquerade.
and the prince, the heart, rips apart black
light, crying in veiled anger and visible
grief. One of many, and alone bearing
the mass of unforgiving truth with
downcast eyes and an upturned face.
and the silver dragon on his blood-lit
crusade turns his blade towards
friendly enemies and, flying, bursts
frozen flame inward through his
lizard-hearted spirit of righteousness.