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Poetry News Post #6719

Darker than Wine

Written by: Ildiko Isariel
Date: Friday, October 31st, 2025
Addressed to: Everyone


Darkness was the first Realm wrought,
and He the first to claim His purpose.
Eternal midnight shed its stillness;
churning mysteries stirred awake for Him,
the keeper of all that lies unseen.

His hand is laid upon all things:
drawn soft across the vault of heaven,
weaving night within the restless heart of sea,
caressing roots and understory.
Only fools deny His throne,
for wherever light fades, there He reigns.

Once Justice thought to deny Him,
and His response was swift and sure.
His incarnadine gaze settled upon the Eye,
a relic of primordial might,
to shatter bonds and then remake them.

He broke the seals beneath the earth,
calling His loyal hounds to His side:
Daybreak, Nightfall, star-devourers reborn,
once prisoners of the Even-Handed,
now faithful guardians for the work ahead.

He spoke then not to mortals, but to the fitful Deep,
abjuring each aspect by name, each charge unmaking.
Five times the chains were broken,
ancient forces severed by the Iris of the Eye.

From the Eye poured dusk in living tendrils,
binding a portion of Sea in silken whispers.
Waves peaked higher than the Vashnars,
rejoicing in the freedom granted by Their new Master.
From abyss to crest the waters sang His name,
and forgot the deposed child God-King.

Justice named Him usurper, betrayer, heathen,
and He claimed these mantles as thrice-true.
Though blackness breathes in deepest ocean,
and covetous Sea would declare it all His own.
The Lord of Mysteries sought a shared dominion,
and with strength and guile He made it so.

But jealous gods cried out in anger,
fearing for the edges of Their Realms where shadows dwell.
Led by Judgement, They drew Their weapons,
Their covenant once again discarded.
The Mother stayed Their hands against the Dark,
and seized the Eye to draw it closed.

Yet His purpose was not undone.
The depths remember His whispered command,
and the hounds still roam the tide.
Their howls mark the shifting ages;
their velvet strides are the measure of the Deep.
Justice has long since fallen silent,
but He abides,
and His design is not complete.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Aeguary, in the year 989 AF.


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Poetry News Post #6719

Darker than Wine

Written by: Ildiko Isariel
Date: Friday, October 31st, 2025
Addressed to: Everyone


Darkness was the first Realm wrought,
and He the first to claim His purpose.
Eternal midnight shed its stillness;
churning mysteries stirred awake for Him,
the keeper of all that lies unseen.

His hand is laid upon all things:
drawn soft across the vault of heaven,
weaving night within the restless heart of sea,
caressing roots and understory.
Only fools deny His throne,
for wherever light fades, there He reigns.

Once Justice thought to deny Him,
and His response was swift and sure.
His incarnadine gaze settled upon the Eye,
a relic of primordial might,
to shatter bonds and then remake them.

He broke the seals beneath the earth,
calling His loyal hounds to His side:
Daybreak, Nightfall, star-devourers reborn,
once prisoners of the Even-Handed,
now faithful guardians for the work ahead.

He spoke then not to mortals, but to the fitful Deep,
abjuring each aspect by name, each charge unmaking.
Five times the chains were broken,
ancient forces severed by the Iris of the Eye.

From the Eye poured dusk in living tendrils,
binding a portion of Sea in silken whispers.
Waves peaked higher than the Vashnars,
rejoicing in the freedom granted by Their new Master.
From abyss to crest the waters sang His name,
and forgot the deposed child God-King.

Justice named Him usurper, betrayer, heathen,
and He claimed these mantles as thrice-true.
Though blackness breathes in deepest ocean,
and covetous Sea would declare it all His own.
The Lord of Mysteries sought a shared dominion,
and with strength and guile He made it so.

But jealous gods cried out in anger,
fearing for the edges of Their Realms where shadows dwell.
Led by Judgement, They drew Their weapons,
Their covenant once again discarded.
The Mother stayed Their hands against the Dark,
and seized the Eye to draw it closed.

Yet His purpose was not undone.
The depths remember His whispered command,
and the hounds still roam the tide.
Their howls mark the shifting ages;
their velvet strides are the measure of the Deep.
Justice has long since fallen silent,
but He abides,
and His design is not complete.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Aeguary, in the year 989 AF.


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