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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2093635
My walk througout the sacred land.
The Duke of Sorrow

As I walk throughout the darkened grounds which are devoid of life,
My body becomes worn with earth and ash, smearing upon my skin.
It blackens my feet with the stains of loss for all those I meet.
Always catching a fleeing glimpse of what was once good and kind.
Suddenly a tinge of color, the sky brightens and begins to surround me.
A person approaches and the grass under my feet returns once more.
It grows again lush and full, they ask me where to find a soul who is lost.
As I guide them, the dew from the grass washes my feet clean again.
We talk as we stroll through the gardens of peace and they tell me their story.
I listen to their cries and comfort them as I envisioned the pain of what they may feel.
Knowing someone felt that sad, seeing just how much that person meant to them.
Soon the journey would come to a close, so I put out my hand opening my fingers.
It runs over the scorched vegetation, my sensory tips touch them softly.
Buds jet fourth and the pedals light up our eyes with vibrant colors of every kind.
Finally we arrive at the site of their loved one which the patron is looking for.
They hug me and say how very thankful they really are for me taking the time to help.
It makes me feel happy to bring them a special joy that no one could.
I thank them with the respect that comes with my service, and smile in kind.
Before long the flowers fade away, shrinking until they fall from the plants.
The grass begins to dry and wither away until there is nothing left.
Finally the patron departs satisfied with their encounter.
I wave farewell and as I turn away, the sun is covering over once more and the night falls in around me.
The grounds light up with fire like cinders which once remained and I walk unto it willingly.
Without hate, I take that negative feeling and turn it on its end once more to create a positive.
With nothing other than the purest love, the warden watches constant with do diligence.
For all life is precious big or small, here or gone, its the memories that remain and so shall I.
This is a part of me and my oath to serve our house of the dead, it is for the rest of time.

(Free Verse)
By -~w0lfbane~-
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