by frithus forest

Created on: July 07, 2007

SPIRIT OF ATLANTIS

A spectral spirit whispers secrets from a far-forgotten time;
She speaks to us in movement, in pictures, and in rhyme.
Once her people were destroyed for a single supreme crime,
When her leaders made claims to be descendants most divine.

In her right fist she holds the world and with her left she draws down the moon. If the people did not recognize in time, the earth and satellite would collide soon. For failure to keep the orbit decreed for its nature and ordained celestial tune, the moon slowly descends to remind Atlantis of God and Fate and Doom.

But it all could have been averted; it need not have ended in tragedy: In dreams and omens, runes and stars, all the forewarnings were foretold. Atlantis could be spared, if everyone examined him and herself truthfully. But if not, then disaster would surely strike before their generations grew old.

Hail, Atlantis, earth-ethereal civilization advanced far beyond any scale yet known. Discoverers of energies and applications of sciences able to rival even all our own. A golden age, where humans had intercourse with beings and gods, futures and pasts; and for whom our legendary heroes would have been just the fatally flawed outcasts.

A world part unlike any we could imagine, since it stood outside our evolutionary time. Its people like a super race, keeping itself secret and separate from the world outside. Adventurers, who happened upon their lands, were treated as if they had done a crime: Imprisoned and enslaved, so never to return home and Atlantis' wondrous secrets to confide.

From the smallest crystal to the great cosmos, every aspect of the universe was clear. Until the temptation to imagine they already knew about everything drew dangerously too near. Protective boundaries were ignored that were never meant to be humanly surpassed. So that suddenly the whole world was in mortal danger and soon none of it could last.

Woe, Atlantis, your women cry out under their spirits' burden with strangled voices: For a long time given no power, no place, no knowledge, and nearly no choices. While the men go to war against unfairly treated enemies and embodied natural forces. Even their fierce flying dragons eventually revolted that once had been their loyal horses.

Until at last His patience is through, and the bowl of God's wrath and retribution overfills. All too soon the century of candles has been burned through, and the vial of justice out-spills. Birds that once flew up for good fortune, fall down as dire omens

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