Wheel's Breach
Author's Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the House of the Dead series.
Summary:
A poem based on the breaking of the Wheel of Fate, set during The House of the Dead III.
The gene that will change the future hooks a bioelectric field to the destroyed planet's infosphere.
Transforms the body to that of unrecognizable chrome. He shall destroy and resurrect everything.
Bolt-spoked rotation, bars of gridded caesura. Spinning Merkabah's arrow of absolutist consequence.
Voltic juggernaut rams life/death barrier into the differential zone. An echo from a tragic past.
Cycleth the doctor's violence. Challenging the progeny who believe in themselves to prevent disaster.
Human morality's remembrance carries on Curien's legacy of horror.
Accursed wheel unlocked the nineteen-year wait.
St. Catherine floats, an inverted crucifix. Discharged a blazing scatter of perambulant sparks.
Margins removed, the sundial revolves. Without halt. Without restriction. Prongs thirty-five.
Inner ring clockwise. Outer ring counterclockwise.
Replenished health. Blue scintillations select a gold god state.
Loudening thunder leaps the condensers, increasing seizure's strobe.
A serpent of patronizing lightning builds along the external rim.
Full fury's flash, broadcasting rays of disabling static. Flickering anchor-trails carom.
This programmable fire-damaged corpse is not Daniel's father. Not the self-made figure by bedside sat.
Glossed in Goldman's automatizing cybernetics, he is less a man than a machine.
Those looking to chart their own paths, they take the rest for themselves.
To be unbound the past. To begin walking toward the future.
He was nil, born again, what should not have been broken.
I cannot stop, for my crime was bearing the burden of my son's illness. What is it to stop, but to die?
So overpopulated, the world belonging to the people who are alive here and now.