Moloch

Soft the wind rushes,
Through trees evergreen.
In the fields and the valleys,
In parts seldom seen.
Through the magic of Moloch,
Alive in the hills.
A young man lay dying,
From a nightmare that kills.

In the candlelit room,
Crisping chill fills the air.
The boy lay there twisting,
Pools of sweat and despair.
His mind’s distant haunting,
With demon spawned men.
And their faces are bleeding,
Horrors starting again.

The clouds break uneven,
The sun sickly shines.
The fetid air wretched,
As a breeze stirs the pines.
The valley lay bleak,
In the thin winter frost.
Hell is cold, and it’s coming,   
Innocents bearing cost.

The quiet is haunting,
As the twilight grows long.
Ancient evil has risen,
With a hunger so strong.
The men ‘round the room,
In their white faces stare.
Past the boy who lay twitching,
For he’s not even there.

But mother’s attentive,
Bathing forehead and sweat.
Whispers soft as she comforts,
So her child won’t forget.
As she prays … there … the corner!   
Where the light lingers not.
Yellow slits blink in tandem,
Flicking tongue, putrid rot.

Yes, Moloch has risen,
Ancient evil so strong.
In a world full of reason,
He just doesn’t belong.
But he’s here sickly retched,
With his cruel feeding free.
To flay minds as he’s hunting,
Sadistic black night banshee.

Men grab guns and they fire,
But there’s dead empty space.
Then the dad turns to mother,
But her sweet life’s erased.
And the boy, who lay twitching,
On the bed screams, and then,
They all slip into madness,
Moloch’s risen again.

In the candlelit room,
Past the trees evergreen,
Only death now surrounds him,
Only dead fill the scene.
The boy wakes from the nightmare,
Takes a quick look around.
As his eyes clear to terror,
There’s a soul deafening sound.

The wail that escapes him,
Takes the still by surprise.
For he’s seen his poor mother,
With the blood from her eyes.
Grabbing cloak as he’s racing,
Plunging fast into night.
Far away from the cabin,
And the soul crushing sight.

In the nightmare that plagued him,
The boy saw much more,
Than evil had wanted,
It had opened a door.
The child of man witnessed,
Though truth demon spawn,
The source of it’s magic,
And he had just ’til dawn.

For Moloch has risen,
Malevolent and strong.
In this world full of reason,
It just didn’t belong.
For his Dad and his Mother,
For the friends who were dear.
The child knew what was needed,
Though his mind tore with fear.

In the dream he had witnessed,
All he needed to see.
As his family was slaughtered
The child dreamt the way free.
So he ran to the hilltop,
Where tomorrow had hope.
For this Moloch must die there,
On that perilous slope.

Then there at the edge,
At the precipice wide,
At the top of the mountain,
His fists clenched at his side.
The rage churned inside him,
As the wind whipped his face.
He said, “Mommy I love you”,
And he stepped into space.

You see … sometimes it’s tragic
This chance that’s our lot
There’s no reason at times
For the journey we got.
Some are born to be saviors,
Some are born to be great.
Some are born to be twisted
Some are blind to the fate.

Soft the wind rushes,
Through trees evergreen.
In the fields and the valleys,
In parts seldom seen.
There’s no magic of Moloch,
Alive in the hills.
For the young man who died here,
Was the nightmare that kills.

.

“Moloch” © 2009 John Anthony.  All Rights Reserved.