Where Things End

published 03/23/19

This poem is part of a larger project I've been working on for years called "Where Things End." It's about a battle that "the good guys" ultimately lost, and the destruction of a city. Also, this is written by the same "unknown" character as The Gatekeeper.

Please, enjoy.

It was a shadow cast from anger,
in a world fraught with war,
formed of the Oknon Augur,
as commanded by Andor.

As the sky turned from blue to gray,
they planned their flanks.
As the air turned sullen from gay,
they counted ranks.

Two hundred, thirty, and one,
they marched.
Two hundred, thirty and one.

It was a beam of light cast from hope,
in a world soaked with despair,
coming down the Atldrae slope,
as led by Rowamir.

A sea of black against a breath of light,
they clashed in the heat of the crescent sun,
four hundred and none against Elinwan's might,
of two hundred, thirty, and one.

But the light became engulfed in the shadow,
Elinwan collapsed to its purge,
and the dead rose from Casperia below,
as Maldor himself led their surge.

So remember Amius,
remember that day of crimson flood,
remember the men who died for Asterious,
remember when was born the Valley of Blood.

Two hundred, thirty and one,
they marched.
Two hundred, thirty and one.