PICTURESQUE POETICS

There came amongst us from some world unknown

A Dame who shone with a Heaven's radiance.

I don't know Her tale, likely it's the same

We're shown with a sickening persistence.

 

The Dark Death, the Shadow, the Feaster of All

Left stark and silent Her realm and Her kind,

A fall like that no doubt, for deep is the mark

Of awful sadness that round this Maiden winds.

 

Still, though ever silent, though constant Her pain,

Not woe but resolve defines the Lady

Who fains to forge fine hurts to the Shadow

And arm the Vigil-Star's castles and armies.

 

When first She came here, She made for the keep

Buried near to centre of the 'Star.

Long She delved deep, walking straight through the spears

Of guards and climbed the steep wall, for Her t'was not hard.

 

Our King and Queen, the two who built Vigil-Star

Received the Lady, and what passed between them

From our ken is barred, nonetheless we may deem

Her favour rose swift and far from what came then.

 

A great house they conjured for the Shining Maid,

A palace prepared for this Blacksmith Angel

Where e're-since She has made weapons and armours

By means arcane, and daily our arsenals swell.

 

Her store of ores and metals seem endless,

Each one far more than is found on mortal planes,

All Her works are blessed and by enchantments adorned

Her crafts serve best of any, the Void to stay.

 

Yet tis whispered that above all She has wrought

That somewhere stirs, in worthy hands, a spear

Which has brought matchless ruin to Shadow-Curs

And made sport of the worst horrors it came near.

 

True or false? Who knows? It matters not at all,

For Her abode is worth a dozen new keeps,

Her works have stalled a thousand times the foe

Whose fateful fall she hastens thus, surely.