by Elven Venom


Have you ever heard, my lad,
about a land without a land –
a fortress of clouds with spirit crowds,
unknown to rock, soil and sand.

Kingdom, borderless and free
whose residents were levitating,
being winged, the winds did swing,
with air currents resonating.

In between old constellations,
far away from earthly threads,
higher than a phoenix pyre;
a life of harmony, no dreads.

The guardian of this world –
Ixveen, The Triumph Mane,
the last of sphinx with golden wings,
kept the order proud and sane.

But the peace did not last long,
for they were ambushed by The Moth;
there was no time to stop this crime,
the Skyworld slowly sank in rot.

The primal air elementals,
the native creatures of this plane
with persistence, sucked from existence
by The Void’s inflicted pain.

Ixveen survived, alas, the cost
was horrific, grim and bitter,
but triumph is yet to take a debt
and hope for better days does flicker.

Writer’s notes:
>I’m experimenting new forms of writing for me, so it’s a bit different from my normal touch of words.
>inspired by a special music that bears the same name. Endless gratitude towards Two Steps From Hell, my number one inspiration for writing.


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