Rain of Arrows

A cycle of poems «Anamnesis morbi»

From the ethereal heights, they descend with grace,
A torrent of arrows, piercing through space.
Like a celestial tempest, they paint the sky,
A rain of steel, an ominous sigh.

Oh, the rain of arrows, a symphony of dread,
Singing a mournful tune, filling hearts with dread.
As they strike their targets with relentless might,
Lives are extinguished, shrouded in eternal night.

They dance upon the wind, guided by unseen hands,
Embodied vengeance, carrying out cruel demands.
Each feathered shaft carries a weight unknown,
A testament to suffering, a heart overthrown.

Oh, the rain of arrows, a symphony of dread,
Singing a mournful tune, filling hearts with dread.
As they strike their targets with relentless might,
Lives are extinguished, shrouded in eternal night.

Some fall upon the ground, harmless and spent,
A reminder of the chaos, the lives it has rent.
Others find their mark, piercing flesh and bone,
Leaving wounds that fester, where hope is overthrown.

Through smoke and carnage, the arrows soar,
A relentless assault, a deafening roar.
They pierce through flesh, shatter bones with ease,
Leaving a trail of destruction, forever it seems.

Oh, the rain of arrows, a symphony of dread,
Singing a mournful tune, filling hearts with dread.
As they strike their targets with relentless might,
Lives are extinguished, shrouded in eternal night.

As the battle rages on, the arrows rain,
A relentless torment, an endless pain.
They dance upon the battlefield, a grim ballet,
A testament to the horrors of war's bitter fate.