Peace In A Fantasy World
The seven ethereal forms billowed into the room .
Like acrid smoke driven on the breath of doom.
Carried on by a cold bitter breeze.
Like an otherworldly collection of eddies
of air carrying random spectral shapes.
They moved aimlessly, yet each had their place.
They wandered in a loose clutch that reached
among the still, stand mounted bears and beasts.
They rose up on pedestals holding books of prophecy.
Also, evenly displayed cases of oddities.
Their glass reflecting fire from the hearth
at the side of the room giving birth
to swirling colors in their glow.
All the pillars sat neatly I n a row.
Each ethereal form settled on a prophetic book.
Then dissolved into it while I looked.
What ancient hell controls this cursed place?
I wondered as sweat ran down my face.
Living in this tower of seven hells
was a creature Satan knows well.
It is said he wrote the prophecy’s.
In a language buried for eternity.
He is alive, yet among the undead.
His blood does not flow, it is often said.
I must retrieve the 7 books of prophecy.
Return them to hell for eternity.
The time draws near when they will become fact.
The only way to stop the prophecies is to act.
I have the power from the white throne.
I hope it will protect me since I am alone.
I know not what the ethereal beings mean?
Some type of protection by the unseen?
I mumble a silent prayer. Touch my heart.
I am ready, as I was from the start.
I know not to touch the books in any way.
I elevate them with power as I pray.
Then the bears and other beasts begin to stir.
They come to life at the summons I lure.
I send the books flying out of the room.
The bears and beasts attack with a roar of doom.
I vanish right from their mists .
Then reappear outside the room of myths.
My robes are swirling around my legs.
I float the books into their kegs.
I move the kegs onto the cart.
Soon the tower and I am far apart.
I made my way back to the white throne.
To the one who sits there all alone.
He says I have done well
as he sends the books straight back to hell.
The ethereal shapes float back toward the tower.
They have been stripped of all their power.
The whole kingdom sings praises.
They bow in worship as the white throne raises.
“Peace will reign forever” He says, in a joyful mood.
As he sits high above the multitude.———–R. W. Johnson—-(2012)