Two of the Same Breath

Servitude, destiny and death consume the realm, the crown lies at the feet of few.

Two mortal enemies.

Two who despise one another.

Two born of the same breath. 

One grasped by Charon’s unyielding hand.

One wielding Death’s sickle.

“Let breath not grace your unholy vestige for it will be a curse that will desecrate all it touches, especially this most sanctimonious site of our meeting” – one spat with the venom of the last great serpent.

The other pulled breath from deep within himself and retorted.

“You claim me unholy when you follow such a beast? Such a beast that would desecrate its domain but for the chance to denigrate its subjects.”

“I follow the king.”

“Well no other king plays the tyrant, the simpleton and the jester quite so well”  

With unbridled fury that would shake Medusa’s gaze he roared “You dare?!” 

“Yes I dare, I dare to mock a tyrant, a murderer, a monster and with such efficiency I should be praised.”

“I dare not to mock the rightful king as I have not forgotten nor forsaken who you evidently have.”

An uncanny laughter filled the ruins.

“Oh tell me who you think I have forsaken?” 

With unparalleled fervour he rattled off “The one who is important above all else, the lone light in a dark cosmos, the good in the epitome of evil, the rational in your diseased mind, Thy”

“The preachers’ laurels must be vaster than vast for they have been most victorious in their siege.”

“I could say the same to you, how Thy has been most unceremoniously carved from the once hallowed halls of your mind.” 

“Thought freed me, not man. That which transcends, not myth.” 

Faster than Zeus’s great bolt he struck. 

A blade of stained glass in a man’s palm to shape humanity’s path. 

A blade that would be etched into the eternities of history.

A blade that ended a blood line.

He collapsed from the deed that would shape the ages, as did he. The two men forgot their earthly vows and embraced in their final breath.

Both clinging to Charon’s embrace.

Both relinquishing Death’s sickle. 

Two brothers.

Two closer than the sand and the sea.

Two who die of the same breath. 

Freedom, hope and sacrifice consume the realm, the crown lies at the feet of many.