THE CAULDRON cont'd.

Maybe they fell too soon for their stories were never told, their foolishness never displayed or were they? Did all men know and by their seared consciences pretended not to see, hear nor learn?

For a young man, strong in his youth, shrewd in his thoughts, bright in his future stumbled upon her and entrapped he was in the glitter of her illusive light.

Not a native of the town and not without a sad history. The hope he was for his aging parents. 

“Work the fields my child and bring home bread that our flesh die not in the darkness of this famine”

He had a vision, a set goal, a target, an aim but this spectacle, this loveliness, this goddess who first had his eye now has his time, his days, his future.

With great expectation they awaited his arrival with victuals but with every passing moment his soul only drew closer to hades. If they had known, they wouldn’t have hoped so much for their much expectation turned the spectre that drew the very life from them.

*

Towering over the carcasses of her slain, she sits exalted over them revealing her true self; the cauldron, the daylight thief, the weakness of the weak.

She works tirelessly for she knows her time must soon be up so in her definite fall, she’d have many down with her.

*

She has no victory over some. For there can be no victory over they who live yet are dead.

THE END