The chair of prophecy(poem)

Hi guys! Welcome to my first post. I'm Free Quill, and I write poems and short stories. I hope you enjoy reading my work, and please feel free to leave feedback—it helps me grow. I’ll try to post every day (or as often as I can). Thank you for visiting my blog. Enjoy!

                                                            

                                                            THE CHAIR OF PROPHECY

In the field death traverses,

Noose in hand to bind those who lay,

Their light that drove them extinguished,

And where arrows rain unchecked,

Striking man after man,

Who fearlessly entered the battle,

Sword or bow in hand,

Where men die for their land,

Unseen unheard,

There was brought into existence,

A throne the likes of none foretold nor found,

In the nook of the world of worlds.

He who sat on the throne,

Say the legends,

Emanates from their mouth,

Nothing but the arrows unbearable,

Truth bitter yet true.

A prediction there shall be,

Of what is yet to come,

And those who sat on it,

Sanity retakes them no more.

Yet enormous is the human greed,

And more than you may try,

Folly you may not.

Sanity was the last straw,

To prevent the mortal greed,

Yet the future is too possibly bright,

And may ne’er come again,

To those who sat on it,

The throne that brings death to the barrier of greed.

Bye guys. See you in my next post.