"Red Requiem: Into the Woods of Prominence" by Skyler Crouse

Into The Woods of Prominence

Satin petals, softer than dreams,

Kiss the lively ground and grace its

Old and barren face.

As those gaunt trees rustle in their

Vivacious talk, cellos offer

Their wild wind music.

That curious bird pins you to

The russet soil, and questions your

Mere existence here.

You belong not to these woods of

Prominence, Tirania, go

Now before we give

Chase.

Instead you take the other path,

Of standing ground and drawing blade;

You silly mortal!

Watch us disapprove with wooden

Stares, and find to your surprise our

Voices in your head.

Yes, you slide that long sword back, and

Look in horror at our smiles; trees

We seem but are not.

You belong not to these woods of

Prominence, Tirania; though

Your antics make us

Chortle.

You must relinquish your human

Wiles before you stand alongside

Us, fair Paladin;

Us the kings of the canopies

That sit enthroned with em’rald crowns

Upon our ebon heads.

Not even the rainbow gulls who

Fly into our palaces and

Sing our kingly praises

Shall utter the merest saintly

Air until you cast off your vile

And mortal frame.

You belong not to these woods of

Prominence, Tirania, go

Now as we always

Win.