The Soul's Retreat

Pluto and the Imp

by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

A tale was told in recent times
Of Fen, an Imp of goodly ways.
Strange music he began to hear,
One misty evening through the haze.

Fear flowed with the haunting strains,
His noisy heart thrummed as he ran –
Not loud enough to overcome
The calling tune of Connorbahn.

Instinctively he knew his fate,
And yet he fought against all odds.
His very soul defied the grasp
Of the mighty faerie God of Gods.

He clenched his fists into his ears
As, gasping, he fled through the night.
The moon smiled on, oblivious
To the wretched creatures’ dreadful plight.

Breathing musty odours in –
Chest heaving, he began to tire.
The music now crescendoing,
His body held the heat of fire.

Torn and bloodied from the chase,
And weakened now beyond all aid,
Tormented, he fell to his knees,
Trembling as death’s music played.

The end came swiftly, without pain,
His tiny form now lay unfurled.
An empty shell, a soul reclaimed,
By Pluto, Lord of the Underworld!

* Connorbahn is music heard in the world of Faerie as death approaches.

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