SinisterMotives

Here's an excerpt from a long poem I wrote about ten years ago titled November. It ran for about twenty pages and was uneven in quality, so I'll just post the prologue and first chapter here.

Prologue

Midnight brings the running of the dogs,
And the pillars of my empire start to fall,
And dreams of untold splendor expire in the dust,
And moonlight paints cold shadows on the wall,

And, blue as dead November, turn
My fleet and racing thoughts
To a memory still vivid to this day:
Covered in vine, and slime, and moss,
A fallen tree in distant woods
Lies rotting for eternity.

Chapter One

Let the hateful season now begin.
How better spent the winter than
Among cowards and friends,
Laughing as the fire dies,
All hopefulness at an end,
And all my wasted days of prayer
Stained black with pride and sin?

May iron-fettered Chaos be unbound,
And the last vestige of order serve
As carrion for the hounds
Who cower from the dimming flame,
But ever circle 'round,
Aspiring to the mercy seat
Atop the sacred mound.

Let the bell for erstwhile sapience toll
Across the final twilit sky.
Let the sepruchral stone roll
Across the portal of light.
Let November take my soul.
Let the dogs piss on the fire
And scavenge among the coals.

[Edit: typographical error]