CorvoKAttano

The Final Call The gods will cry the final call, the call that will come one day to all. They watch the world governing the night and day, they will decide who is beggar, who is prince and they lead the worthy down the heroes way. Akatosh, the king of time, depicted as a dragon, he is of the gods their prime. He is patron to all of everlasting legitimacy, power, might, endurance and invincibility. Arkay, the god of mortality, the one who is called upon in a case of blasphemy. He is the necromancer's fiend, and into all races into life he streamed. Dibella, the patron of the pilgrim, she will grant strength of personality through her kiss

The End The end is looming and will never leave, the final stop is coming, whether or not you believe. The journey to the great plains of nought, it is the place where rarity is thought. The end is coming in the form of a boy, a girl, a man, a woman thought to destroy. Yet when it comes it is not in trepidation, but in peace, tranquility and in anticipation. The end is fate, tangled with yours, the order is a twine, that follows no laws. It will guide you to your destiny, then stab you in the back, it has all you can imagine, but fairness it does lack. The end is not enjoyable, pleasant or satisfactory, some are keen and find it as delica

Warmth all around Heating Getting hotter Hotter Hotter Burning Glowing   Red light all around Heat blasting air Flickering   Red turning orange Surrounded by light Growing Heating Shinning Pulsing Waves across the floor Nestled in a bed of warmth Rush of wind Crash nearby Shattered Splitting up Thousands of tiny stars Rising Rising Many going out This one stays Rising Flying Heat subsiding Holding on Going higher Higher Slowing Floating Falling Falling Rush of wind fuelling flame Still holding Losing grasp Falling Faster Faster Impact Wind gone Grasp failing Glow fading Cast out and thrown away Glo

Falling from so high, The ground seen like a lens. My life up high ending fast, My time on the rigging done. It was my dream but wouldn't last, The battle untimely won. The final moments in my flight, The final course has run. The dawn and dusk of a fight, The final duty done. Another victim of the sky, For me not a tear will cry.

Love is a shard of ice in the heart; Freezing, And releasing it by the heat, Of a hand. Love is a candle’s flame; Flickering, At the window, Through the storm. Love is a gust of wind; Fluttering, Soring sky high, And swooping back down. Love is a drop of water; Falling, Void of thought, And dissipating at the end. Love is a burst of steam; Rising, And melting, On contact. Love is a bolt of lightning; Striking, And out of nowhere, They are gone. Love is a rock; Steadfast, Holding on to you, In the dark.

I remember when the skies were clear and the grass was green. I remember how the trees would sway and the flowers bloomed. I remember the grassy hills and the still forest scene. I remember when the birds would sing and the mountains loomed. I remember how the leaves of late cast a golden sheen I remember the days before man had the world entombed.

Hate On a throne black as night, On the field of the greatest fight. On the wind of death itself, On the back of plague, hungry for health. In the earth with the precious stones, In the graves with decaying bones. In the head of sane and not, In the spores of mould and rot. Under the wing of love and hate, Under the bed of your child and mate. Under the cup of a beggar’s trick, Under the robe of a candles wick. With the rich and pore, With the breeze blowing under the door. With you wherever you are, With the cars racing over the tar. Alone with you in you sleep, Alone with the sand dunes sweeping steep. Alone with mountains high,

The Infernal Devices The infernal devices are without pity. The infernal devices are without regret. The infernal devices are without number. the infernal devices will never stop coming. The infernal devices, their hearts of steel, their minds are iron and there scenes quite real. Their grip is hard and their feet are light, they come in hoards and it is death to fight. Daemons of the darkest depths, defeated in battle, they live with regrets. Bound to a metal heart, until the force of life departs. Mixed in magic and more, defying dark rights, Nephiliem and law. A numberless army was born, ready to emerge and aggress at dawn. From the b

Love burns bright like a kindled flame, A light in the dark pit of the heart’s frame. It glows and pulses quietly when dormant and dead, Until a spark alights it and scorches what is said. Love is the flame that keeps us warm at night, Without love, life is a doomed fight. But to fight the heat there has to be cold, As it has been since the days of old. Down below in the dark, Away from light and loves great spark, There lies a place of which no people tell, This dark place is hell. Hell is cold and loves counterpart, It takes the ones that are above and brings them on the great cart. The cold can be felt from above on the corpse of

As the pigeons fly above and the church bells ring, As the merchants shout their wares and the buskers do their thing, I take a walk and watch the day pass by, Down the Seine, à Paris. As the doves cry and the dogs bark, The painters observe and the poets hark, I stop and look and have a sigh, Down the Seine, à Paris. The boats they toot and the cars beep, The wind it blows, the leaves they fly to land again in a great heap, I continue down my pilgrim way Down the Seine, à Paris. The talk, the tourists gawk, The pour man looks on at a fancy fork, I keep going and resolve on coming again another day, Down the Seine, &ag