In a shroud of trees Stand a lone worshiper Mumbling words to a set of hills To him they stand so tall Which lends credence to his belief That they are the abode of his gods To whom he must pray For food and security That was a beginning
In his dim mind He sees trees flattened by rain Some uprooted by gale force winds Yet these hills stand tall as they were From time immemorial There must be the palace of gods Wherefore their solid stance Against all the onslaught of nature The sacred hills seen from his childhood days Around which he played hide and seek as a lonely kid Fantasizing to be with tiny demons Who teach him mean tricks galore
He offers blood from the sacrificial lamb The entrails of a pig's belly Urine of a virgin Toenails of his supposed enemies A promise to bring in more offerings too; When he attains his goals That is to cast a spell of doom
Later ..much later He comes more devoted Offering human parts Freshly mauled and parceled to present To the gods in the sacred hills His prayer now is for a crown But also for a cure for ailments secret That is until people started the rumors
Haunted by his demons The cries of his victims Long dead and buried in secret tombs Come visiting day and night Nightmares of a tortured soul Triggered by guilty conscience Never fail to show up So the trips multiply To the sacred hills Can he lie to his gods Yes he can Indeed he does lie Because they are fake deities The effects are just Figments of his imagination The residents of those hills being termites Perhaps his gods erm.
Thanks sanka, your comments of encouragement are much appreciated. i just want to add that your own writings are by far much more superior in context and quality and I see you an inspiration in the quest of writing on this forum. Thanks again and surely do read all your postings which display talent that is worthy of note. Keep it up brother.