That Storm on the Horizon
4. Reflecting bewitchingly, blacker than darkness
(…Voldermort…)
The old sun was a spell that had long ago drawn him in
and embraced him with that warm flame, that lying hope.
He'd been a fool to hope:
he still bore the wretched scars
of that hope.
His new sun was of a different matter: no ball of flame
but rather lightning that spat sparks and forked its snake like tongue
More beautiful, he thought, and more true
to that dark world it festered
And he'd grown to love that world, to drive it further
into the shadows, so that his spitting lightning sun
would be the only path, the only source of light
until he switched it off and recreated the world
into perfection from its dark.
He would bring all the butterflies of the world
into his hold.