November (Part 1)
A beautiful lady in the field did rise, sitting tall in the grass she rubbed her eyes. Where has the summer gone she thought? I don’t want to be where the sun is not. Stunned and startled she looked all around. What happened to the people, why was there no sound? The clouds churning and gray were a sight to behold, the last light on Earth was her gown made of gold. Garbed she was in an intricate dress, her radiance more stunning than any empress. She thrust her arms up and into the sky, cast her head back and let out a fierce cry. Her passion so obvious, her angst so deep, she called to the gods to rouse them from sleep. Around loomed uncertainty and creatures of lore, but no sign of the gods, were they too no more? Sullen she sank to the ground and the frost, overcome while feeling both lonely and lost. Then in the distance she heard a faint sound. A pipe organ groaned, as its keys were pound. At once on her feet, she decided to go, certain at the cathedral someone would know. So in the last light of dusk she did hasten, to the building of spires crafted by mason. Stumbling and weary, almost lost in the night, she arrived at the façade, an intimidating sight. Behind the great door a light was revealed. It’s source in the distance, a candle concealed. Passionate the melody, it’s composer quite savage, his back to the lady, the keyboard he ravaged. In note after note came forth centuries of pain sounds of great woe, his madness unrestrained.
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