I wrote a variant of this poem a while back, just because. I was digging through old material for plot ideas, found it, and came up with a humdinger. I had to rewrite the poem as both it and the story evolved, but, here it is.
Seven Accursed
We are now fallen, we who dreamed —
We seven who once strode through Hell,
We who breached the citadels
Of mighty gods and called them ours.
We are now fallen, we who dreamed.None will speak our names again;
The holy places shun our souls
We chose the path of dark and lost
And Dark has come to claim its due.
None will speak our names again.Dare not the summits of the gods —
These places do not welcome men,
Devour them and throw them down
And leave bleached bones as testament.
Dare not the summits of the gods.Now I raise my shattered sword
To summon gods I scorned before —
Summon Grief and Vanity;
Call on Hubris, and Remorse.
Now I raise my shattered sword.We are now fallen, we who dreamed —
We seven who once strode through Hell,
We who breached the citadels
Of mighty gods and called them ours.
We are now fallen, we who dreamed.
