Death’s Isle

Towering above the midnight heights,
On the golden wings of a chariot,
She spied her Lover in the misty grey,
A flaming torch to light the way.

Where is Love in Bosom’s flight?
And where is peace to feign the night?
The deafening billows of wind-blown haste,
The sender’s signal in silence sung.

Deliverest thou from the haughty stag,
Who stomps his hoof on a vulture’s path.
Decadence swoops amidst his wings,
Dreaded locks caress his breast,
……Licking up a martyr’s gap.

Flaming daggers align his gaze,
And a corpse-like stench from the entrails of time,
Course through his teeth and trail behind,
Stirring up a dusty haze.

A cackling of bones could be heard in the distance,
And a stirring of those in succulent delusions.
It rang like bells in chiming concessions,
To each of his movements in morbid succession.

Would it not alert the most docile of prey?
The bells, the stench, and what of the haze?
Alas! These tumultuous depths would not forsake,
The confrontation of such a ghastly checkmate!

Her scent rose like fireflies,
Piercing the darkness beneath,
And the stag stomped in excitement,
In a consummation of “pleasantries”.

The fireflies rose further,
Piercing his breast and his brow.
His mouth trickled blood at the sudden invasion,
Displaying the remains of a murderous occasion.

Smoke pouring forth from his nostrils and consuming their fire,
The fireflies fell in sequence-less attire.
His locks recoiled in angry disposition,
For the loss of the fireflies quickly extinguished her position.

The stag flew once, then twice, and thrice—no more,
As she clung to the rock beside the Brook of Fool’s Lore–
With thunder-clad thighs, he swept up his prey,
Casting her down to Hades’ doorway.

Broad was the way as she stepped inside,
While the midnight sun cast shadows behind.
A horror of horrors was Satan’s delight,
As the sky bled fury in Hell’s Paradise!

Heartbeats rose and faltered anew,
Like a tapestry turned inward and exhaled again.
She cast herself down amidst the noise and confusion,
As the door swiftly shut in a shout of intrusion.

Through a comfortless concoction of time,
Rose the echoes of those who tortured her mind.
She turned to gaze in this darkened place,
As zombie-like creatures stirred in their graves.

Lord, I beseech you, make my escape!
Silence, the elixir, served a friendless ill fate.

She saw bones scattered about in an endless foray,
Now blocking the entrance and all the doorways.
The room served as a foyer or some intricate display,
With paths worn in circles from a recent ‘fore stay.

The night, well spent, she sat down to rest,
Waiting alone in silent torment.
The bones became linen and skulls, a headrest,
As she waited for Life to make its Inquest.

Laughter was forgotten and love respite,
Fell on deaf ears with the passage of time.
Hope adorned her, though tattered and torn.
Her face disfigured and loveliness mourned.

The bones soon chattered and striking a pose,
The walls shed their tombs and the zombies arose.
Their steps were awkward as the rhythm began,
With the eager delight of an impending entrance.

A shaking disfigurement attacked her insides,
The outside scorned by many fruit flies.
She swung to her left, seeking omission,
The garb clung still, upon her descension.

With a mighty reception, the door swung open,
And the bones danced about before her inclusion.
She froze for a moment as fear gripped her sight,
And the devils upon her gasped at their plight.

A Prince stood before them, dressed all in white,
With majestic gold hues upon His Foresight.
The monsters trembled and with an awkward retreat,
The devils withdrew at the sudden “malfeasance”.

He reached for her tenderly, amidst the decay,
Her sight was distorted from the bites of her prey.
“Don’t be afraid,” He said with a smile.
His eyes glimmered brightly in the mist of Death’s Ile.

He lifted her up in her fragile condition,
While outside, the chariot stood its position.
The great white horses beckoned their delay,
As they reared up their hindquarters in ominous foreplay.

Gently, He whispered, “My Eternal Mistress,
My Bride of Delight,
Let’s gather the winds and take flight.
The time has arrived,
……There’ll be judgment tonight.”

The team of white stallions,
Spread their vast wings,
And the chariot ascended,
Above the hallow of death’s sting.

While resting her head upon His breast,
She sighed but dared not speak,
As Death’s Isle plunged,
Beneath the Black Sea!