Price of Immortality

The warrior stood intent on survival
Maelstrom surrounded him hopelessly
As wails clung to the desperate air.
Callous and belligerant was he
During the pleading
That his darkened spirit be humble.
The stench of skin so charred
Replaced the ere of sweet jasmine.
And the sight of the rivers turned crimson
Did not bring about contrition.
His strides through the gift of life
Only held the arrogance
Of a knight among poor.
Choosing the pedestal of boastfulness
He acted as his own Deity, needing not.
But now came the lowly and meek
Hearing the ethereal rings of perfection
Resounding in ears of bliss.
No one remained to show obeisance
To he who believed himself immortal.
No longer was his walk gallant,
No more would life be fortuitous.
His raven hair betrayed him for white
And his gait turned vivid with torture.
The lilt in his voice had long disappeared
As the shimmer of his eyes dulled.
Pain overtook the most intricate of places
But Death would not grant him emancipation.
Hour thirteen struck the confines of time
A mere beginning of the hell to come.
A nightmare greater than the girth of Xiamen
Was the illimitable fate he would succumb to.
With quicksilver, the zephyr blew the remains
Of wind from his despairing lungs,
And shades of ultramarine and yellow
Filled the broken vessels of the irises
Yet he still refused offered Repentance.
With the girth of Arabia and obtuse speed
His soul unforgiven became as a naiad
Drowing in the sea of eternal damnation.