The Winds of Zekreet
Near windswept mountains far and wide Past rocky outcrops either side Beyond shallow beaches and rolling tide Lies the place where I reside. Concealed within a precarious cave Where few have ever ventured save Some curious souls who crossed my path Only to balk and flee my wrath. Their machines of metal clang and roar They irk my essence and stain my shores Vibrations shake the concrete floors That surely were not there before. Though in this prison I remain Each crack and crevice knows my rage From all these years I’ve been estranged Forgotten, lost, inside my cage. But what is this? I hear a voice: Who makes this sound? Who makes this noise? Who dares to venture in my cove? A plot I craft for my approach. I push away the inner wall Sweep past the cracks and breach the hall
Stealthy, swift, I heed his call His voice is one I do recall.
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