The Heart of the Wild Hunt
327 Words
The endless war of worlds called upon;
They waited tireless for the setting sun.
The Riders of storm, the Hunters of night;
The faceless men will now chase and fight.
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Bringing his antlered helm and wooden mask;
Why does he march to battle, one might ask?
Gwyn ap Nudd beckons and woefully cries,
He fights without abandon for he never dies.
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Glass armor and long bow he brought,
He led the army for the victory he sought,
Legions upon legions of men and beast,
Souls of the dead he gathered for a feast
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To the Annwn, the souls he carried,
In the barren land, life he buried.
The soul moves on and becomes a tree,
Trapped in Annwn, never to be free.
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Aside from his sworn duty to harvest the dead;
The Heart of the Wild Hunt caused the war he led.
The black masked elf gathers his ghastly army,
To bring back home, his stolen iridescent lady.
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Riding the clouds of darkness, atop the mighty stag;
Across the bleeding horizon, the dead he dragged.
Impaling and piercing the hearts of his enemies,
Only the death of his rival will bring him joyous peace.
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An opponent who every year Gwyn seeks to battle;
The line of of their armies he slaughters like cattle.
The rival who had taken the love of his life;
For his Creiddylad, Gwyn had started a strife.
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Creiddylad the maiden, the fairest of them all;
Gwythyr had taken, to see Gwyn ap Nudd fall.
Gwyn of the Wild Hunt will never stay at bay,
For his maiden, he’d kill Gwythyr on Judgment Day.
/
The Heart of the Wild Hunt
A poem from the novel Becoming Chaos
By Matthew Spades
Copyright license under Stary PTE
This is an original work of literature. Reproduction by any form or means in part or in full without written consent from the author is illegal. All Rights Reserved.
- Writer
