LUNO
Part 1: CLOTHO
Slaving away – crafting and molding –
The old creator sits silently sculpting,
A skilled master of his craft.
But in flows a cold draft:
A memory that haunts,
Together, with the fire, it taunts.
He knows the justice will come
For he lies within the atrium
Between guilt and innocence,
His hands he cannot rinse.
The deed was sound,
But he knows he will be bound:
Theft of that which ought to be shared,
For valiance he will be marred.
The craftsman breathes in the omen,
Awaits retribution for altruistic sin,
And returns to his project,
Searching for any defect,
Any mistake or element forgotten.
Before completion he is taken –
He fights – not in opposition,
But in support of his creation,
For it is not yet whole:
The figure contains no soul.
This animate empty shell
To an adverse earth it fell,
Knocked over in the arrest
As the creator screams his best.
Shot from the sky, as if fired from a gun –
A crash – and it slams into the ocean.
Man with no soul, heart with no voice
This is Luno – life is now his choice.
Part 2: LACHESIS
Dropped without intention,
The soulless outcast creation
Left alone – naked and cold –
Luno, with hair of gold,
Skin of bronze and strength of steel,
The one made ideal,
Floats quietly in isolated sea
Watching an eagle fly free,
Admiring the freedom
Swirling like a mocking maelstrom.
The joy of a successful catch,
The anger when talons unlatch,
The love felt for collective kin,
Luno knows he should feel chagrin
As he witnesses true life:
The mixture of mirth and strife.
Waves transport him to shore
From within comes a roar,
The trumpet of a crusade –
Critical of the defect made.
An innate indefinite feeling
Leads to enter the forest burning,
One foot in front of the other,
Compelled toward his father.
This connection unknown
From stitches he had sewn,
Pieces he fit
To the spark he lit –
The father and the son
Long to be one.
And so, Luno searches,
Through forests and marshes,
Over sharp snowy peaks,
To anyone, he speaks:
Following every frivolous lead
With great zeal and speed,
Always to no avail,
Eternally doomed to fail.
Cities expire as years pass,
People break and shatter like glass,
But Luno remains solid.
Death outlasted.
His search had never ceased
Until one day in the east,
Under a strong oak,
A man in a dark cloak,
Accompanied by an eagle bold
With feathers of majestic gold,
Offers a misty solution:
A magnificent talisman –
The Avian Amulet.
A trinket he would not forfeit
Barring a trade.
For his creator, Luno paid,
Perpetual servitude.
Darkness imbued.
Part 3: ATROPOS
Advancing forth from solitude,
Leaving life left blued,
Soaring into the tomorrow
The bards leave hollow
That seers and soothsayers
Blur with shades and colors
That survive the gradual decay
From the fear of today.
Beating faster – wings of gold –
He rises into the cruel cold,
Shattering the empty horizon,
Cutting through clouds broken,
And the forgotten truth left
Burning in the common theft.
The frost on his feathers
Thaw from lung-lit fires,
The fool is finally free
To reveal the lonely;
The brave, valiant martyr,
The raped, veiled father.
The blazing heart way away
Pulling Luno from decay –
A purpose with no meaning,
A life with no ending.
Over seas of soaring snow,
A peak with warm glow –
The spirit that burns
Within the man of irons,
Shackled to brutal boulders,
Stripped of all armor –
Luno zooms through air
In an attempt to spare
From evils furies permit
While the lanterns stay lit.
Yet the father aims to expel
As the sky begins to swell,
Cries over mountain tops
Clash and quickly drop.
Until a flash – silences –
And the cloaked man emerges.
Facing his conversion,
He states his true intention
Of the gilded present
And Luno’s payment:
Eternally cursed to the blue,
Luno is tasked to chew,
To rip and to tear,
Through the father bare
And devour the nature within.
This shocking cycle now begins.
For years through centuries,
Luno doth appease,
Obeying the wicked pact
And the scales of contract,
Destroying his own father
For the raided master,
Feeling nothing – his sin –
Even beside loving kin.
Luno maintains this torment
Until stricken by one sent,
One fated to free the prisoner
And end the incessant torture.
Staring into the heavens
As chains smash – he listens –
Eyes sealed in harmony,
Dreams of impending beauty,
Into the sky, his final song does fly,
Luno liberates his last moonlit sigh.
