Lore, Poem, Sagas, Scenic, Short story

The flash, the thunder.

A storm waits in the wings for a shelter unprepared. It is but the whisper of winds which tell of its coming to those who never learned to listen.

All the world is but a green haze of plenty without a care upon. Surely in such silence, it is felt, that ancient wars and warriors no longer need an echo. For certainly such things could never be near a world so peaceful.

The trees which stand now flutter in the breeze, the trees which are felled lay quietly as their dull drone and thud has already screamed out across the wood.

Beyond the horizon the dark clouds wait. They know of those who know so little outside the world which they grow fat. Their comfort has been assured by the blood of those who came before, and sacrifice is built, for them, on promises and foreign backs. Theirs is a legacy of greed and blindness.

But so silent is the sound of the world when the wind would meet the grass. It stirs so little in its place, therefore there can be no true threat. Otherwise it would be the steps of giants, glow of fires which would warn that something grows awry.

But so comes the storm from its place beyond the world. Unseen for those who should have seen lay staring at their comforts and place which is assured. They know that they can withstand any trial which faces them now, for their forebears have done the same.

Yet theirs are not the eyes which bore sight to horror and hardship. Theirs are not the hands which made or backs which lifted and broke so that those who followed might know a moment’s peace.

Theirs are the hands which threw away all that was given. Their shelters made for times of luxury and not a moment of trial or war.

The storm has come above them, at once to thunder down. And scatter to all places they can those people of a peaceful world now go. They knew they could endure hardship until it fell upon them. And even still they boast they can as they run together with the other fearful.

The storm brings more than rain. It comes to wash away the certainty of luxury and illusions that all are the same.

For with the storm rides those as one, to take and conquer as they will. And make from lands held by the weak an empire to expand.

2 thoughts on “The flash, the thunder.”

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