The Pillar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 09, 2016

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Submitted: July 09, 2016



He is who walks,
Who walks amongst the tombstones and poppies,
Armed only with a candle,
And a dead star.

He walks amongst the crooked trees,
Bent until their trunks touch the soil,
His fingers bleeding from their bark.

He is the librarian,
Feathers made of decaying pages,
And bones made of broken spines.

He glides between this world
And his,
Existing between existences, if you will.

He is alone,
But he is Great.

And you,
You may call forth his knowledge,
But be warned of this my friend,
You are not to use the things you learn for malice nor degradation.

The words he gives you are for study,
To become that which is no longer only human,
Nothing more and nothing less.

Should he find you,
And find your deeds have been impure,
On the seat of the three Kings
it is the fool's place you will take.

© Copyright 2020 KiralyAbaddon. All rights reserved.

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