Pillar

Amidst the battlefield, Where naught but death and chaos loom. Where dawn and sunset, To nature affixed, Break and shatter. Where reality weeps, As its shards, In their divine incandescence, In their wholesome, comforting warmth, Fade as the dark and cold conquer.

Amidst the battlefield, Men of all breed witness the cruel grasp, A stench of death, Ever so corrosive, An embodiment of horror. Bewilderment and confusion ensue, Folly and valor are one and the same, And all hope is lost, All faith displaced.

Amidst the battlefield, I stand, A relic of what once was, A fragment of a whole, Void of all that is innate, Sentenced for eternity to be, Tabula Rasa.

Amidst the battlefield, The abyss violates, And Panic, An effigy of the dark, Trembles the ground with its roaring gallops. Towering, it neighs, And deep within, Its cold bellows echo, As the skin crawls, Organs shrivel, And airways clog.

Amidst my battlefield, Shone a ray of light, A light that painted the abyss. The dark and cold dissipate, Revealing the once forgotten. The light, So bright, So strong, So grossly incandescent, Seemed a pillar that held all.

Amidst my battlefield, Stood a pillar erect, Radiating jolly warmth, That pieced together a reality, Once in shambles, Now whole.

Amidst my battlefield, Gazed the pillar into my soul, Drawn to it, I walked. As my palm lay on the pillar, The weight that clung, Chain-like, rigid, cold, Felt ever so light, And the battlefield, At last illuminated, Was a sanctuary.