The oracle foretold it. By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
Dusty, old relics will breathe new life soon,
After the passing of the eighteenth moon.
At noon, when the sun rains down violent fire
And the flames it causes burn ever brighter.
They will gather, into a perfect circle
And start to chant, commencing the ritual.
A ceremony of resurrection,
They'll sacrifice goats and a pure virgin.
Reading from tomes and drinking strange potions,
Gifting the old corpses with motion.
To pull their damned souls out of Satan's hell,
The elder wizard will recite an ancient spell
"Od' net nin-re pus. Y'brik, tab mokla tro'm. A'nam fot-erces, o' ir-am!"
After all is done, their god will be appeased,
And just as they came, they will silently leave
Taking with them, the most curious of possessions
The relics that held life beyond imagination.
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