My heart stalls as I ride through the embers and smouldering soot of these ruins. With the stars and fireflies bursting into flames. I can only hope to make it out of Tartarus deified…
The winters of the near south fell and bled,
Upon the vale and fiery barren plains,
As the light fabric of the aged sun frayed,
Above, the frosty petals and six slaves.
Time blurred the curse of love and early trades,
And soon the white iced dew would feed the graves,
Though the dark clouds scoured the valleys and glades,
The tears of the drought filled the lifeless sea.
With the ash and soot deep within the plains,
In light of the wind wielding the stoned key,
There was no telling how far we had strayed,
When we trod down the dew and cold decree,
Still, the dawn of the moon-lit night unwed,
The falling sun inclined to go to bed.
Vernon Mukumbi is a 25-year-old medical student who has always loved to write. He has found writing to be a place of release mainly because he can always sail the forgotten seas and places he has never been. Vernon lives in Zambia, Africa.