The wall stands against malice in the west
warden of the empty lands
with eyes watching for the soulless fear
that comes when winter’s night is low upon the world
crawling over rock and ruin
consuming all that stands to weather black tides
waiting for the solstice
and that last gasp of life
given to the binding in the deep
Then to wander on weary roads
until home becomes memory of fire and shadow
and eastward the sun rises on an empty hall
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Now with a soundtrack!
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Photo by Emily Ziegelmeyer on Unsplash
Mitchel David Ring 
6 responses to “Weathering”
Both GOT and so NOT GOT. I love the Not GOT side.
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Thank you! cheers (:
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Excellent. You create such a bleak atmosphere!
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Seems to happens to a lot of poems I write. Maybe I’ll try to brighten things up a bit. Cheers! (:
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No, keep. It’s a good atmosphere.
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If you insist! 😉 cheers
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