The wrath of the pantheons

Doom looms, waiting to boom

The gods are vexed
the great immortals must be appeased
for doom looms, waiting in earnest
ready to consume all that mortals possess
a hundred bulls or a thousand heads
what is demanded of men
for defiance to the dictate of the pantheons
let it be known in all corners of the world
told to the old and the young
penned in all languages ever known
a proclamation from the abode of the gods
written on the surface of clouds
inked in stars' blood
illuminated by tear drenched rays from the sun
-it weeps for the blood of it's kith being shed-
that;"the land ages
from crushing and tilling
the waters grow desolate
sea creatures wither off
the air blows it's lasts
a life source nearing iit's own end
the earth grows heavy
nearing it's break from orbit..."
life's almost blotted out
mortals near their fall
the sun weeps
the moon is on deathbed
the stars are dead
the pantheons must be appeased
with a hundred bulls or a thousand heads?
that we must decide
before all life is blotted.

Author's Note

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