I wandered over the dying and the wounded. My eyes have never seen so many dying on the field. The rain had washed away most of the blood, and yet this gothic horror resides. Memories of the villagers, all poor and rich, kind and needy. Flowers growing in our neighbour’s garden. If there was a way to counter Death, where would I find it?
I lost my father, my mother and my brother. I have lost all of my friends. Help me before I lose myself too.
I have seen the light, the majestic opening. Was warned of the shining relics of the heavenly moon. Blinded in sight the departed fools seek, ran to my lord whose protection I need. Rising to the stars above, higher than what birds can fly. Seeking new value over a stardust and helping others in the galaxies below.
I did not come back to our homeland. Heard of the war that took place. Sorrow lead me to despair which then brought me to grief. My brothers in fellowship have decided to lead me to my deathbed.
Will my life end here in the gloominess or will it rise above the heads of men?
Soaring above the ranks of kings and thanes, will my life end and be no more?
Rising into the afterlife I hope my life was more.
Then the angel of divine holy light brought me out of my weakness and we rose.
In that instant I knew,
I knew that we were rising higher again.
- Title: Rising
- Artist: Woolimis
This is a poetic short story i wrote in my freshman year at high school.
I was recovering from a depression, and it was during this time when I was inspired to write.
This is one of many poems and stories and essays I wrote during my lit. boom.
- Date: 02/06/2011
- Tags: rising
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