Divine Plagiarism

Arise from the dead, O sleeper, prepare for the battle cry,
Arise from the dead, O sleeper, awake for you hour is at hand…

Something approaches.
The Earth heralds its coming,
. Stretching wide its parched expanse
. To receive storm-brought rain.
Rising wind comes heavy with water,
Mixing with lightning-seared ozone.
The sound draws near,
. Rumbling, the march of a mighty army;
. Crashing; a distant battle cry.

Something wakes.
And eye slowly opens,
. Blinking away sleep, and dreams of rain
. As a path comes into focus.
Nascent purpose sprouts in fertile mind,
. Spark kindling behind now-lucid eyes.
Feet finding ground,
. Legs rise and find themselves sound;
. Arms stretch and find themselves strong.

Something rises.
. And staggers toward a battlefield.
. Gazing across the frenzied expanse,
Where two armies make war.
One, mistakenly seeing victory,
. The other, mistakenly defeat.
Neither prepared for the storm.
. One, with defenses too weak,
. The other, with aspirations too small.
The arrival brings the fall of one,
. And the change of the other.

But not yet.

The revolution is underway, not yet understood.
The storm has arrived, not yet in its fury.
The ascendant faction now rises.


To be explained in Sky Falls Down. (or the guide to the end of the second to last chapter of history.)