Beneath the castle tower
The wails of the banshee echo
Fear and uncertainty feed its howls
In its wake flowers wilt and grass withers
The cries hold the peasants paralyzed
The naked emperors delight
Clapping their hands in mirth
Swaying to the caterwaul as if dancing a jig
But rejoice townsfolk
The tower walls are clothed in stone
The banshee’s shrieks bounce off and cannot penetrate
Ascend the ladder
Climb the walls
Inside the blissful silence
The hushed intimacy of harp music
Sensed more than heard
And angels waltz with joy
Serfs you will never be
Pick up your robes ye gentlefolk
Seize your throne
The ethereal queen kneels at your feet
Soothing them with oils
Nubile princes waft past
Bearing trays laden with bread and honey
Rest
Rejoice
Renew
You have ascended above the frenzy
To your birthright
Within the castle where peace resounds
About the Creator
Renee Ranke
I am a reborn writer (funny since the name Renee means 'reborn'). On my mystical journey, I have rediscovered, in writing, a long-lost love and a way to strengthen my connection to my own divinity.
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We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 days ago in Fiction
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