Foreboding Sails

Fiendish smoke

spiraling above the horizon.

The sound of screeching engines

heralding impending doom.

The leviathan,

its plates stained with pitch and soot,

slowly sailing towards the heart of our home.

No kamikaze[1] or divine wind

to deliver intervention.

Our fletched arrows bouncing off

the reinforced steel of an era

beyond our time.

Our wooden galleys, our planked barges,

splintered by its mortars and ordinance.

The demons’ desecration of our lands,

bring us strife,

a fateful reminder that we are still

the people of the past.

Opening our eyes,

we look towards the future.

By becoming what has shattered us,

can we overcome the inevitable cataclysm,

The black-wrought machine from another land.

[1]Kamikaze, or divine wind, is a term first originated from the intervention of a tempest in the Mongol invasion of Japan. The entire foreign armada, which would have occupied the nation, was smashed off the inhospitable coastline.

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