If one could walk over the molten rocks and the flames that are consuming Trolls Bane, one could see and read a parchment still hanging from the Southern gate, miraculously spared.
******
Do not cry for me Gobaith
They were abandoning us
We saw them marching away in innumerable hordes
Cerulean baskets, drifting with the flow of ethereal currents
Unpredictable slow-paced travellers on the way to some distant Moscow
A whole people of giants were fleeing the land of the Setting Sun
Returning to the star where they were born
Pell-mell, rock or water, flesh or fiber
All united in a drive of scarlet apocalypse
They had abandoned the towers of cruel steel
The stoned prisons of glass and rare metals
The sophisticated vessels that sailed any sea anywhere
They left us kneeling in the dust, bloodless
Our scrawny arms imploring a silent sky
We had not been punished; we were abandoned
What did we do to deserve such an ordeal
Pride for sure, our thirst for freedom, lust, our spineless souls certainly
But, but our dreams were pure, they were embracing the stars
Our arms were forging some impossible futures
Our intertwined tongues were sucking in the happiness of each other
As if we had offended a god to have been willing to be gods ourselves
And when our tears and our supplications were dried up
When at last our eyes dared to look at the horizon
We saw that our world had gone, taking away with it even its ruins
And this hollow world, our world, stretched out endlessly, obsidional vacuum
Magmatic, in long barren waves hiding sinister folds
What was this glow over there? Some voices are heard, alarmed
Is this the lair of some vengeful monster, the palace of Cherga
Or the fiery breath of some bejewelled dragon
The bravest are already stumbling towards the rouged daylight
Anything is better than this desert that screams abandonment
Better to be dead than the ignominy of a failed life.
Here be monsters
Here be monsters
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