Anaxios

This is a poem about Axios, Tritos Doxa; Worthy of the Third Glory of the Twelve Wings of Meridian. A character from a Sci-Fi story I've been working on for 26 years at this point. He's a tragic character, condemned by history and politics, yet he fights for them still... and never asked for anything in return. They even twisted his name from Axios, meaning Worthy, to Anaxios, meaning Unworthy.

Anaxios

The demon slumbers in the eternal forge,
removed from our world,
untouched by time.

He sits on a throne of flesh and bone,
grown from the blood of his victims,
a towering amalgamation of sin,
made flesh to exalt the demon king.

It lives and breathes,
and hungers so,
for war,
for death,
to feed and grow.

Hide your children and ward your home,
lest their bones be claimed by the living throne.

His is the realm of perpetual silence,
for nothing draws breath in the kingdom of death.

When the horn sounds,
and the words are spoken,
the king shall awaken,
and the gates be opened.

The undying army awaits his command,
to murder in throes,
and ravage the lands.

All who oppose them shall suffer their wrath,
for they are destruction to all…
or so we’ve been led to believe.

We fed him our sins and never looked back,
forgetting the truth and pain of the past.

All the darkness we carried within,
we washed our hands of it,
and forced it on him.

Pray when we need him the demon will come,
so that our hands may be clean,
of what needs to be done.

Beg his forgiveness for what we've become,
for we are the undeserving.

Born in fire,
the purest soul,
a beacon for all to follow.

He saved our people,
made us whole,
and set us upon the path of salvation.

Strong and true,
standing tall,
I shall always remember him so,
as the legend,
the hero,
who saved us all,
his name need not be mentioned.