A Dark and Stormy Night

An old man sits on a hill, observing the last of the magical world run dry in order to give birth to science.

The Clouds are gray, and the forest is quite a sight,

It is what happens, on a dark and stormy night.

Watch and see, as the remnants of magic fade,

Gaze upon this most beautiful trade.

See the color drain slightly from the leaves,

As the witchcraft, out from it bleeds.

Gaze upon the lightning strike,

As it burns the sorcery bright.

Watch as gods fall, struck by their own might,

Masked by the sound of thunder and light.

Look at them fall, see where they lie,

Look at them crash, as they die.

Make haste, make haste so you won't miss,

The death of the old ways, good bye I kiss.

Let the new generation of thinking begin,

One that even I won't be starring in.

My time of birth had played a part,

I was too early for the Old World; the New World's too far.

If only my birth had been with this next world's,

I would have had a place for my knowledge to unfurl.

A world that would have devoured my philosophy,

A world that would have been grateful to have me.

But my time to strut the stage has past,

But in spirit and writing, my lead will last.

So let the cogs turn, and let the steam pour,

Let the factories rumble and roar.

Thank the Ancients' magic for carrying us this high,

But now we must carry ourselves, before the magic runs dry.

Let us sit here together in the pouring rain,

To give our condolences to the Old World's reign.

And what will come of the funeral witnessed tonight?

For that we would have to see beyond The Dark and Stormy Night.

Author's Note

This is one of many poems and short stories I am writing in order to create a history of my fictional universe.