Out of the cumulous clouds, came the reign
of the Nephilim, rising as vapor,
a condensation of stirring spirits
who were coldly condescended upon
by The Watchers as demon descendants,
angels fallen from Divine Deity,
whose failed effort as saintly sentinels
veered to voyeurs over man’s carnal kind
from the compass corners of creation.
The skin of dragons colored the columns
clinging in the wait of the Watchtower,
which once overlooked the lavish lusting
in the westerly fields of Nephilim.
The infamous sorcerer Sauron
was one such notorious Nephilim.
He sired a son, spawning his lineage;
born from an earthly lust-laden maiden,
which was when Eghost was thusly conceived.
As a wizard child, he toyed with tinctures.
When grown, deception embodied Eghost.
His practice was to change reality
by leaving his followers in the dark,
caught inside his false illusions of light,
illuminated by his lust’s luster
which was only a mirror reflection
of Eghost’s fervent fervor for power.
Like his fiery father before him,
their volcano reacted to the tone
echoed from the eruptions of Eghost.
Spouting in the near distance, Mount Doom loomed.
Still, pure light found its way with the pathway.
Born behind the dusk of her father’s flame,
Nephillia, the daughter of Eghost,
was distressed over demons of her past.
Aphrodisia was her addiction,
intoxicating her desirous eyes,
blinding her to her relative secrets.
Yet, she was all over with asunder,
awakening the lost angel within
to sense her spirit subsume her essence,
the “spiressence” of her powers’ presence.
Her moment was meant to be in ascent,
so she led the deluded disciples
toward the embrace of the Threshold’s passage.
They were slipping from Eghost’s mind control.
This maniacal master magician
lacked his patience as they started to stray.
The sinister sorcerer shape shifted
to a fire flaring dragon with intent
to soon annihilate the Golden Gate.
Once near the darkest of the drenching dark,
the Threshold illuminated brightest,
shining its supplication upon her.
However haunted by her father’s spell
to stay in the glare of his underworld,
thee aspiring angel, Nephillia,
fearlessly faced her father’s fantasies
and turned on the brilliance held in her eyes,
dwindling her dragon to a ghost’s shadow.
With one wing enlightened and one in shade,
she chanted her chance to chase atonement
and chose the Archway’s alluring aura.
© Justin R. Hart
Response to our Inspiration Call on November 23, 2017
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Categories: Featured Writer's