Here's a poem. I tried to go with a more rustic, archaic style. Suspension of disbelief may be necessary, or it might not be - your call. I've drawn together many story elements into this one poem, so it may be a little messy though I like the overall tone. I've made some assumptions and made some connections. Let me know what you guys think.
Reap and Sow
While one night I dreamed in Sleep’s solace care,
I dreamt of a quest meeting Sleep’s brother.
I was lead to a rift of sulfur and smoke;
Sleep’s brother was there and to me he spoke:
“The Abyss of Sin, of Hades, true Hate,
Will swallow you whole if it is your fate…
But this I can change, if it be your will –
I can change your path and make your soul still.”
He told me of life – loving, eternal -
On the green Earth with solace, so peaceful,
Of things that were and of things will soon be,
And of the present, so omnisciently.
“Who are you that you know of things to come,
Of things that have been or things being done?”
And he looked at me with red, glaring eyes
And answered me quickly as if surprised:
“Have you not heard of my power, my name?
I am Death, the Reaper, one in the same.
I harvest men’s souls and guard their spirits
From Hades, the Dragon, of hate and sin.”
“He wishes to torment and haunt poor souls,
To bring all those down to the land he knows.
But I’m here to help; I’m here, yes, for you.
I’ll guard your sweet soul; this be not a ruse.”
And I thought and wondered of all that is,
All what I’d heard and all what I’d missed.
And I was suspicious of this gesture
But knew not what I could ask or offer.
“What’s in it for me, this odd deal of yours?
What have I to gain, when my spirit’s yours?
What will you do when it’s yours and not mine?
Will I be lost, condemned, destroyed due to Time?”
At this question he averted his eyes,
Looked off in the distance through land and skies.
“I cannot tell you concerning these things;
Would you rather be stuck in those Nine Rings?”
And at this I knew I spoke not to Death,
But Hades himself, beast of fire breath.
The knowledge of Nine, those fiery rings,
Was known to so few, men greater than kings.
And I knew, on account of the poet,
Who’d been there himself and also toured it –
Virgil, the great, and Dante, and Christ
And also Satan of eternal strife.
Death could not know, for he was not allowed
Past the river Styx, on Charon’s ship bow.
He was cursed long ago to walk the lands
Of mountains, fields, ice, and sands.
I knew the truth, and ‘twas seen in my eyes.
And Satan, Hades, threw off his disguise.
“Well wrought, and well thought, you silly, weak man,
But not even you can disrupt my plans.”
Sprouting wings he flew back into the rift,
The pit of fire, sulfur, that deep Abyss,
To scheme and to plot with terrible thoughts
Of reaping and sowing the souls of those lost.
And I awoke from my dream, thoughts a-stirred,
Free from Sleep’s grasp, and sweet evil unheard,
And slipped back into unconscious slumber,
With dream remembered but mind uncumbered…
