literature

War Song

Deviation Actions

Vigilo's avatar
By
Published:
423 Views

Literature Text

I feel War as he was:
soothing bloodlust with cunning
of the tricksters, with the calm
of a savage. His heart is windless,
stirring only when a bird shrieks,
when the pitiless sun burns,
harsher than flint.

He is treacherous, travelling
underground, but oh,
lovely to see his labyrinths,
to reach the crown of his fort
and gaze below.

These bricks have known
a bloody sun.

I know him as he is now:
rotting in the high walls of Time,
soundless, stale, secreted away
by piping bats, who echo night
with hands of wings.

These grasses have known
a history gone.

I see him, as he will be:
overrun by dry wilderness
and yellowing jungle, and alone,
a bridge gently folding into a moat
of moss and water.

He will strew stones on the floor,
like snow in summer, lull trees
to sleep in front of the doors,
and close the gates.

These walls have known
a silence of drums.

War sleeps
in his fortress of wrecked stone,
lying above the hill of the gods:
bloodied, but unbowed.
Hm. Tell me what you think? Thank-you. :heart:

:bulletblue: For the transliterations Photocopier Contest.
:bulletblue: The picture is of Daulatabad Fort, a fort in Maharashtra, India. It lies on the Hill of the Gods, or Devgiri. There are labyrinths, underground passages, and traps everywhere, which is why it is considered invincible by many.
:bulletblue: Some description is taken from the inside of the fort (e.g the bats). The bridge can be seen to the far right and the moat is below it; there is a pile of stones near the crumbling arch; the wilderness is everywhere.
:bulletblue: This photo was taken by me on July 25th, in Aurangabad, India.
:bulletblue: Full-view picture: [link]
© 2011 - 2024 Vigilo
Comments14
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
VFreie's avatar
Alright, I realise this comment is late to the party to say the very least; just wanted to tell you this accurately captures many of the feelings I've gotten from visiting old dismissed fortresses. And, a silence of drums - look at this oxymoron in the eyes and give it a kiss, for it is perfect.