The Play on the Marsh

The marshy uplands of fate knows where
Swarmed with locusts and dung beetles;
With mist and the will o' wisp;
With snakes and creatures of the deep.

Once blessed with the birds of the sky
and the creatures of the mist wallowed not in it.

But the wind blew
The sky rampaged with groans of thunder
Sparked its anger with bolts of lightning
The birds have died, have flown, have gone
Away from the marsh, to never return.
A fiery phoenix once lived in the midst of it all
But the seeds of time beckoned it gone
Not even him, the phoenix, withstood
The terror the marshy uplands cooked
The creature of the deep, of the mist.

The filthy pretension the marsh had
the thousand strides that passed by
the countless of those unclean
destroyed the beauty it once had
Uprooted the primordial, the primitive
The contrast, it tried to suppress
But, alas! The opposite have been bred.

They tried to kill it
They all denied it existence
Coilde deep down
Below the greenery of once upon a time
They dared not speak of it.
Nor said its name
But the beast had grew
from reppression and pain;
suppression and pretension;
from genocide and masquerading

But what is its name?
Who or what the questions maybe
To the biased and pretentious
The phoenix sing unto you
"The creature of the deep is the opposite of me
But, nevertheless, is one with me.
Do not try or even think of it
To kill it, you must kill me
Our power, from each other,
Connected as one, primordial, primitive"

So the son goes on, the creatures dare say
Alas! with head bowed
The phoenix sung one last song
"The creature and I
Must live for peace to grow
The I must be with the other I
The Creature, the basilisk."