The Prophet’s Moon

Once every two hundred years a fateless moon rises.

On this night destiny has no hold.

Beggars can become kings, great deeds made commonplace.

All the seers and prophecies are  simultaneously right and wrong.

Change overtakes the land, filling it with chaos.

When morning comes the world has been reshaped.

Lines redrawn and old orders fallen, fates control reestablished.

By Nicholas Byrley

Friday at last and another semi-random poem. On a fantasy/otherworldly kick right now I guess.

The End Of Tommorow

I can see them flying on razor wings.
Those who have come to destroy us.

Once we had a future, possibilities unending.
Hope has since been denied, rejected by sorrow.

Now all that remains is the invader’s shadow.
In forgotten craters the ruins of our cities sit as gravestones.

We weep for the end that does not come fast enough.
To exhale the last human breath and be done with it all.

By Nicholas Byrley

– Mood: Randomly fatalistic.
Today’s lunch poem is a story fragment, a poem about a story I should write. Apocalyptic alien scenarios are always fun, lots of room to play around with it.

The Dragonbreach

Image found at jmd3.cghub.com.

Image found at jmd3.cghub.com.

The Dragonbreach

The walls were built strong, enchantments woven into every stone.

Here it stops the dwarves promised, together they made their stand.

On scaled legs the destroyers came, the ancient and relentless foe.

The battle raged and the wall held firm, a grim stalemate.

From the heights came the first, the mother of them all.

Fire blossomed and talons raked, but still her children died.

In sorrow she dove, eldritch powers against the wall’s might.

With a crack and a roar the hope of man fell, a queen sacrificed.

The horde unleashed and unbound, the age of man ended.

I figured crickets dying were too depressing, so here is a poem to honor the fall of the nations of man. Dragons are always breaking stuff.

Airwalkers

Airwalkers
Light of foot and strong of heart, they call the skies their home.
Baptized by lightning and cannon, life gambled every night.
Clouddancers to some, they are the young, reckless, and foolish.
For the prize they take the fall, hoping to seize it all.
by Nicholas Byrley

Steampunk airships + pirates + boarding actions= inspiration for this story fragment/poem. Hope you enjoyed the break from my somewhat depressing musings. Forgive the formatting again, this is from my phone.

Self

Self

by Nicholas Byrley

Self existed for many years. It was aware, and yet also unaware. In many ways Self simply was. It did not have a problem with that. Things had always been that way, so they would always stay that way. However, Self became aware of some oddities in time. It noticed something beyond Self, things. It was wrapped around this thing, a hard lump. At first, Self thought it perhaps it was part of Self, just a part it could not feel.

This answer satisfied it for many more years, until a similar lump fell from above Self and struck It. Self knew pain, and knew confusion. But from this lesson it realized the lump that struck it was the same as the lump Self was on. Therefore, it must be something not of Self. All things then were not actually Self. If this was the case, then there must be Others. Self knew loneliness.

It passed the intervening years after the lump fell from the sky experimenting with It’s boundaries. Self knew the breadth of its domain, and could shape portions or even all of itself differently on the lump it occupied. Self trained it’s senses on the above, watching for more lumps, watching for the Others. Self knew that if it was, then the Others must be as well.

They might even be smarter than Self, more knowledgeable. They could answer many questions Self was beginning to have.

Self waited a long time, eons passing as the above shifted in its endless cycles. More lumps came in time, some slightly different from the first one but all just more lumps. Self added them to the pile it had made, not sure what else to do with them. Finally the day came that a lump unlike other lumps came. It was buzzing, vibrating, and whirring. It came down not hard, but softly.

It was different from the others, special somehow. Self examined it carefully, years of thoroughly checking the lumps from above lending it expertise in the survey. This lump was hollow, and full of gasses. Self put pressure on the lump, it bent inward easily. The buzzing and vibrating increased when It did that, and It was surprised.

It responded to Self’s actions and seemed almost to be watching It. This lump was not a lump at all, but an Other. Self knew joy.

It was no longer alone. It had many questions for this strange tiny Other, but knew not how to ask it. Since it had responded when Self applied pressure, It tried that again. This time it persisted longer and was happy to see the buzzing and noises increase dramatically.

But something happened, the Other gave a loud pop and then suddenly broke apart. The pressure was too much. Self tried to gather the myriad parts and pieces of the other back together, but no matter what way It arranged them, the Other would communicate no longer. The Other was no more. Self knew sadness.

It placed the Other on the the lumps it had previously collected, hoping to attract more. It would be different next time Self decided, It knew the limits of the Other now. It would just take more time, and then It could find out all it wanted to know….

***CNS “Landfall” Log: The shuttle we sent down to Gliese 581c to examine the planet has not returned. An alien mass we first mistook as an ocean that seems to stretch across the entire surface of the world swallowed, and then crushed our vessel. I grieve for the loss of our men and women who volunteered to search for a new home there. There is an attitude among the crew that we should sterilize this world, but I see no need. It holds no intelligence, no malice. It is another mindless organism amongst many we have found, and it would be a waste. I will settle instead on simply marking the star charts and sending this information back to Earth, so that none shall make the mistake of landing on this world again.

-Captain Brock Grunweld of the Colonization Navy Ship “Landfall” ***

Watching my lava lamp made me thing of primordial ooze and this is the result. Interestingly, this is another case where the image found afterwards fits the story. Although I had originally gone with Gliese 667Cc as the planet, searching for Gliese afterwards found this rendition of Gliese 581c I knew I had to use. Let me know what you think.

The Skycleaver Swords

The Skycleaver Swords

The Martyr’s Blade

It is the bane of tyrants, kin to Truthbreaker and Kinseeker.

Wielded for a noble and just cause, the blade always prevails.

With such power comes a hefty price, a debt that must be paid.

It can triumph in any conflict, but it demands your life as well.

The Truthbreaker

It is the might of old creation, the iron of the worldforge.

Some call it Truthmaker, to others it is the Godslayer.

Its might is unmatched, its power an unstoppable primal one.

Reality is the wielders to control, woe to those who face it.

The Kingseeker

It edge is the foundation of empires, the source of kings.

Those chosen by it are called lawgivers, true rulers of man.

To oppose it is to oppose order itself, it can not be denied.

A golden age awaits those who wield it, prosperity and life abounding.

by Nicholas Byrley

Maybe I’m channeling Fred Saberhagen, but the idea of magic swords is always a delicious one. I had at first the idea for just the martyr’s blade, then the second line of that poem pretty much wrote the other two. It makes fertile ground for a story, three opposing characters and their blades. Really one I should get around to writing…

Sword Catchers

Sword Catchers

Born of magic, forged in secret.

Eaters of steel, slayer of men.

Feared by all, hunted by the crown.

Ancient and wrathful, Navok’s forgotten heirs.

Impervious to blades, unstoppable when enraged.

Less than human, more than a beast.

Wild and ravenous, they seek the feast.

by Nicholas Byrley

Magical beasts created to eat metal as well as flesh and are always hungry, sounds like fantasy to me. This started out as another story fragment and developed into a poem about a monster. I like the way it came out. Its not something I’d want to have a random encounter with, anyway.

Sorry to everyone(especially myself) for a lack of a post yesterday. Been a crazy week already when events yesterday. Really had to focus on my husband and familial stuff. But, I continue to write. One day does not a failure make. So I will keep at it, and keep posting. Hope everyone enjoys the poem, let me know what you think.