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The Descended Souls
In shadowed halls where whispers die,
Beneath a cold and moonless sky,
There sat a throne, both bleak and bare,
Adorned with thorns—a cruel despair.
Upon this seat of twisted dread,
Where none but ignorance dares to tread,
The souls of folly made their claim,
Yet bore no wisdom, earned no name.
Their skin was pierced by thorny spire,
Each nerve alight with frozen fire.
Yet still they smiled, their faces bright,
As if to mock the depthless night.
"The world is ours," they cried aloud,
"Its light is pure, its heart unbowed!"
But shadows danced in the corners near,
And silence whispered truths to fear.
Oh, how illusions thickly grew,
A tapestry of fractured hue!
Reflections wavered, dreams betrayed,
Beneath the lies their spirits swayed.
Beyond, the gates of iron loomed,
An arch of grief where fate had bloomed.
Its shadow stretched, a raven's wing,
A dirge to every hollow thing.
"Let us pass," they begged the air,
"Our deeds were pure, our hearts were fair."
But echoes answered, cold and plain:
"What of the sins you carved in vain?"
The gates stood still, their iron stark,
While spirits wept in the creeping dark.
Their hollow cries, their ceaseless pleas,
Fell mute before the haunted breeze.
And yet the souls of light must bear,
The weight of ignorance everywhere.
Their wisdom sharp, their vision clear,
A gift, a curse, a burden drear.
Through poisoned halls where shadows seep,
The soulless march, their spirits weak.
Their thrones of thorns dissolve in dust,
As truth consumes the gilded rust.
The hallows creep, their breath is slow,
An ebbing tide where shadows grow.
"What price was paid to crown your throne?
What lies were sown, what seeds were grown?"
Their voices falter, their answers fade,
For none can soothe the debts they’ve made.
The soulless stumble, blind and worn,
Forever lost, forever torn.
Oh, pity not the ignorant’s plight,
For they chose the veil, they spurned the light.
But mourn the ones who see and know,
For theirs is the burden of endless woe.
So mark this tale of shadowed fates,
Of broken thrones and iron gates.
The hallows creep, the truth prevails,
And ignorance falters where wisdom sails.
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