He shared his secrets with the tribe
they all sat intensely around the fire at night
the cold of the air, danced all around them.
Secrets unleashed, summoned demons, reaping realms.
He told them of the plague and the medicines to cure.
They sat around in awe as the stories grew intense.
About demons and monsters, and battles defense.
And the beasts wore souls over their faces.
To bruise their senses over the ages.
They asked of his healings and how he survived.
His responces were vivid, and brought up through life.
Death surrounds vallys and mountains and seas.
Healing the monsters with souls for their beings.
Water from springs, condensed to a vile.
He passed it around to preserve the quiet Nile.
They shared the water and memories fell
from the past to deal water, from the crystalized well.
He rattled his staff to accommodate the tales.
They all sat in silence, as the grace of him fell.
A master of fables, they were all in his grasp.
Like thunder before lighting, in a galloping rasp.
As the stories die down, so does the tribe.
But, the foreseers stay awaiting the end
the stories take them far away
they lasted for nights and stretched on for days.
When the tales are done, they open their eyes
they all look around, they've been in a trance
The stranger disappeared, after a ritual dance.
The tribe was baffled and the utmost confused.
They pondered his existence, in the night.
Dark and blue...
What I love most of this poem... is the plainland atmosphere you've captured... Its this primordial feel to it.
Its hard to put in words, but Its like... waiting in the desert and then this happens... its so real...
You're welcome!