The one who once brought the abundant grey showers,
Shall no longer consolidate the natural powers,
Possessed by the ancient gods of land and sea,
As his decisions have made their lives a misery.
The godly powers are passed down to those who are deemed worthy,
For these powers are otherworldly.
They are gifted upon a mortal to lift the weights off of the higher deities,
But now the divine weight has crushed so many with brutal mortalities.
The fields became dry as the desert, with rains being reduced to a rarity,
It was most certainly not the time of imminent prosperity.
The crops waned with an unseeable pain,
That would soon be realized in the form of vicious stomach strains.
All he does is sit high with petty authority,
Watching those who beg him for mercy,
Fall to his knees with weak limbs and frail bones,
While he yells, “You shall not greet me with these pathetic tones!”
The vacant shrines soon became active,
With flowers making the site overly attractive.
But none of that mattered now, as the decision was already made,
To punish the mortals for the abandonment of the religion for which they prayed.
In truth, the Keeper was not the one to blame,
For he was only a vessel used for the gods’ dastardly game.
Now, as flames engulf the lives of those who had forgotten,
A divine world is being planned from the ashes of the befallen.