Ascending up the path toward the hold
upon the snowy summit of the cliffs,
our Preacher presses onward through the cold
in garb more suited for the cool of spring.
The air is still and quiet up this high,
but in the distance, twixt the sev'ral peaks
he hears the shrieking tempests twisting through
and knows at any moment could they come
and bear a blizzard down upon his head.
He presses onward rubbing arms with hands 10
both cover'd by his sleeves to shelter them
from contact with the summit's frigid air,
which scrapes his throat with ev'ry breath he draws,
accustom'd still—he'd like to think at least—
to desert's arid winds as dry as these,
but not toward this biting, bitter chill.
He's push'd already for a day and night,
exhaustion mounting as he's climb'd the slopes,
and on this newest day of frigid cold
that flesh begins to freeze beneath his robe, 20
he starts to think his path's led him awry
until a silhouette doth manifest
before his eyes upon the mountain's face,
and now he comes upon the citadel
wherein the Coven hold experiments
and live and have invited him to come
so many prior times he can't recall
exactly what the number maybe is.
He gulps upon approaching t'ward the gate
and hopes through frozen brain they'll still accept 30
him in their household after he's declin'd
so many invitations offer'd ere.
He touches flesh to gate, perceiving here
how cold the metal is before he wraps
his sleeve around his hand to rattle it,
whereat beyond the yard within the walls
the entrance door at front of th'alcazar
pops open for a face to peer outside,
and once the Preacher's spotted by the guard
the younger man comes rushing to the gate 40
in coat and hat and furs of animals.
"Thou silly traveller, thou art a fool,"
the man declares whilst rushing to the gate.
"This palace is for those invited here
by th'owners deep inside who wish to keep
their privacy from those outside its walls!"
Our Preacher, shivering, doth here reply:
"I am invited in. Or so I've been
before on numerous occasions, though
YOU ARE READING
As Ever Like the Sun & Moon at War
PoetryA troubled Pilgrim sets upon a road in search by sun and storm of paradise; a vain Pariah's banish'd from his home to render justice by the moonlit night: two individuals who share a flesh, each unalike in methods and beliefs, yet fated consequence...
