The First Ritual

Those on the road wailing at the stars

came to the crossroads and met eyes smoldering

a smile and a promise of the world

if only the long journey down to the fire

At sabbath of a red dawn the first ritual

smoke over all the world

carried to the sky and poured out in offering

Then the fragments left to waste away

alongside memories of the torn apart

scattered to the winds and hoped to be forgotten

Now footfalls in the shadow

and nothing to tell of return or journey onward

only the soft whispering of a spellbound witness

blind to the broken chains laid at the foot of the altar

Photo by Thiago Matos from Pexels

4 responses to “The First Ritual”

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