A faint whisper echoes around the lands,
A faint memory, crafted by the ones,
Who dreamt up lords to rule the masses,
But didn’t see what rules this world.
The great beings of history,
Their names so varied,
Their true natures unknown,
Save to a few.
Some of us see how the pantheon grows,
How it took root in the mind
And never let go.
The first lord is death,
The master of crows.
The great author of history,
Never striking a blow.
All beings end in his clutches,
All things end their too.
The buildings that crumble,
The dreams which don’t come true.
He created life,
These falling sands.
To make all think of him,
Whilst they fall into his hands.
For when one leaves,
This pitiful mirage,
All thoughts feed his glory,
And glut his heart.
The second god is pain,
The mistress of thorns.
Like a striking scorpion,
All tails and claws.
All beings feel her kiss,
All cry out in pain,
She sucks in their attention,
Their cries all in vain.
She created well-being,
So when one is hurt,
All thoughts head towards her,
Now matter how curt.
The cruelest of mistresses,
Alive since the dawn,
Of the apes and the creatures,
Who dance, and then fall.
The third god is war,
The great charging ram,
The bloodthirsty bully,
To which all are damned.
The very nature of this world,
Feeds his cursed soul,
By conquest, or bloodbath,
All kingdoms must fall.
He gifted them peace,
A brilliant lie,
So when they ride out,
They feed him then die.
War is our nature,
It will never cease,
And he will grow stronger,
To aid the raven’s feast.
The fourth lord is lust,
Such a peculiar creature,
Like the cute little hummingbird,
But betrayal is her feature.
All apes are compelled,
Compelled by her greed,
She drives them forward,
To feed her dark needs.
The most stalwart of hearts,
Fall victim to changes,
Become consumed by things,
A whole spectrum of ranges.
For as long as they think,
Her presence is there,
Her sweet kiss,
Their cross to bear.
The fifth lord is wrath,
Heat, spite and fire,
The ancient viper,
Who writhes with ire.
Inside their hearts,
Is a flame that smolders,
Eating away forever,
Never to falter.
For when they choose,
It will ignite to a blaze,
A wrathful cry,
The end of their days.
His laughter will echo forever more,
And the screams of his victims,
Will feed his pride,
Even as they adore.
The sixth lord is madness,
The unraveled brain,
Like a cackling hyena,
With nothing to gain.
He created their sanity,
So they’d always cast him a prayer,
And those who transcend,
End up elsewhere.
Every sane thought feeds his hubris,
Every stray one makes him stronger,
The sweet guise of sanity,
Won’t last much longer.
One day they’ll see,
And he will transcend,
Above all his peers,
To dominion eternal.
The seventh mistress is sorrow,
Like a loyal, mourning dog,
Her tears wet the lands,
Their touch bringing rot.
She crafted up happiness,
So all would rejoice,
But her creations are delicate,
To opinions unvoiced.
When her shield breaks free,
Of this happiness,
Her priests will weep rivers,
And she will ascend.
She rises and rises,
Into the night,
Her faint sobbing therapeutic,
To ones who share her plight.
The eighth being is twisted,
Corrupted and cruel,
A spreader of pestilence,
Rats being his fuel.
He sprinkles his blessings,
Throughout the lands,
Hoping stray travelers,
Could continue his plans.
He gave them well-being,
A fickle blessing to ensure,
They would continue to worship him,
And through ages, adore.
When one ape falls sick,
All feed him attention,
And fuel his desire,
To create more machinations.
The ninth lord is patient,
Like a maggot he takes root,
Inside their powers,
Like the rotten core of a fruit.
He works in foul whispers,
Deals and dares,
He begins to rule them
Though most are still unaware.
This god is of corruption,
In all governments he is present,
Their very existence,
Makes him hell-bent.
Leaders and lawyers,
Fuel him today,
And as long as the apes continue,
He’ll never go away.
The last is of wealth,
Like a proud lion he roars,
Tells them to take,
What they can by the laws.
They stockpile their wealth,
And feed his rich schemes,
He sits back contented,
Ignoring their screams.
His boons come with a price,
A sneaky fine print,
For once they are glutted,
They soon shall sink.
Greed overwhelms them,
Depraves them of life,
And his power grows,
As their cries echo in the night.
This is the pantheon,
To which all apes believe,
The gods who continue,
To rotate this strange world.
This is the pantheon,
To whom you owe your life,
Your existence is a prayer,
A shining bright light.
This is the pantheon,
Which was always there,
They were just good at disguising,
And deceiving the self-righteous.
This is your pantheon.
Kneel.
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