The Silence of the Tolling Bell

The silence of the tolling bell
An ancient tale that here we tell
For whence the final chime doth ring
Permanence sets and the change begins
Steps are twelve, and engaged now in motion
Revelations brought forth; none are the chosen
Salvation is empty, despair hath emerged
Now is the hour; as it’s the time of the purge
At the chime of one, the first message did come
With pomp and with pride, it corrupted the sun
Spilling and splashing, then bathed it in crimson
The harbinger message of man’s soon extinction
With the blood taking reign in the mid-morning sky
Panic ensued with the seeds sown and ply
Whilst scholars and learned, did ponder, and pause
Pompously trumpeting the reason and cause
Came a second great ringing, the hollow chiming of two
With the faithful now fretting, as the good often do
Words lost their power, and none carried clout
Drowned by the falling, through chaos and shout
By shaking and rumbling, and the shifting of land
The cities collapsing, and a swallowing sand
People now halved, and yet still disbelieving
When three chimes did ring, brought a great cleaving
Not sword, nor a blade, but a sharpened wind slicing
Driving men down, with great pain and writhing
Fell prone or on knees, but no lord did they serve
Just a breaking of will, and a flame to their nerves
Confusion and fear and yet faith somehow remained
Worn leather books, and the hope they’d be saved
With the ringing of four, came a great wall of dust
Swirling and clawing, eroding those crushed
A great suffocation, and the number did slip
Mountains were leveled, and bodies in pits
Five chimes were heard, and all turned to the ocean
Water dispersed but the seas ceased their motion
Dampness pervaded, then the water was gone
A tumultuous boiling and erased echelon
The line in the sand, not a line, not a beach
A vastness revealed in a widening breech
Then the pivotal chiming, as the bells echoed six
Farmlands and forests fell prey and grew sick
Whither and blight, brought the cankers and gall
Crops went to wilt, and great oaks soon did fall
Swamplands turned solid; grasslands went parched
Cracking and splitting, the soil was scorched
Then seven loud chimes, and the skies met the ground
As feather and fowl, fell and crashed with great sound
Hooved creatures sturdy, did a great wasting take hold
Their lives catapulted, and in sight, they grew old
Soundless they fell, and their bodies went scatter
The buckets of white, thence then turned to a clabber
Souls of the pious, weighed now down with depression
Still then prayed to their gods, for a wink of concession
Prayers went unanswered and when eight bells did ring
Plague crossed the globe and a pestilence reigned
Boils were summoned, and blood rushed like an ocean
No cure could be rendered, no relief brought by potion
The great fever laid claim and brought suffering death
Sharp pains in the chests and the stealing of breath
Coughing of blood, and the flesh turned to bruise
No relief from the burning, last the mind to confuse
Desperation turned worse as the nine chimes brought cold
Not rain, ice, nor snow, but wind uncontrolled
Into caves they were driven, but the wind found a way
Despite all the punishment, the few living would pray
Prayers for a warming, were rewarded at ten
But hope fell to nothing when the fires did begin
And the flames licked the land till the ruins were burned
Not a place they could hide, not a soul to be turned
So, few that remained, they were ragged and thirsty
When the chiming eleven, at last brought them mercy
Cooling winds from the north, fresh air from the east
Thought a test they had passed, their trust then increased
Whispered hope of a savior, yes, it brought a great surge
Salvation awaits, and the people emerged
Memories faint, of the stories they learned
After trials he would save them, when to earth he returned
A white horse he was riding, this man larger than life
In the carriage that followed, on a throne sat his wife
Magnificent and glowing, he must be the one
With a wave of his hand, he brought back the sun
Another hand sweep and then gone was the waste
A banquet now laid, and in seats they were placed
Excitement and whispers, how the moment was growing
After suffering the trials, their faith fully showing
Yet before they were served, the great rider did speak
Of a great sanctuary, spoke this man of mystique
The entrance quite near, we can be there by dark
It’s simple to enter, just your pledge and my mark
With the freedom of will, each bowed and accepted
An infinity symbol with the cross then connected
Then twelve chimes came, ringing clear and steady
He dropped his mask, his revelation now ready
A test! Yes indeed, and to all I commend
Your faith was amazing, but you failed in the end
So close did you come, almost the accession
You read all the words, but forgot the core lesson
A false prophet will show, bearing gifts and relief
For payment, your service, and the mark of the beast
Took the mark, now corrupted, and under my spell
You pledged loyalty to Satan!
Now welcome to Hell!

The Silence of the Tolling Bell

Additional Reading

If you enjoyed, The Silence of the Tolling Bell, and would like to read more from American author, R.J. Schwartz

His complete works on The Creative Exiles Website can be found here

The Gypsy Thread is a huge collection of his original work

Ralph also writes on HubPages

His newest book, Things That go Bump in the Night, Poetry of Fear and Fright, will be released in April of 2023.

The featured image is the bell of Chersonesos

R J Schwartz
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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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