Pan's Descent



Beneath an ever cloudy sky

that never rains a drop,

Arcadia is slowly dying.

Dead limbs fall to the ground.

Blackened leaves flutter down 

in a constant whispering rush.

Bare trees assume postures

grotesque and startling. 

 

Beneath this dark hemisphere

where pastures once thrived,

fields are filled with weeds.

Nettles and thorns abound.

Beast and fowl have fled,

all humans long before.

 

Only the God Pan remains,

once King of Arcadia when

it flourished with life.

He strolls the abandoned

glens and desiccated fields,

playing his wooden flute

to harsh and mournful songs,

feeding on that darkness

as once he fed on life.

 

He has grown in stature

to twice his normal size.

He is now Pan Furioso

and his fur has taken

on a far darker shade,

his hooves are sharper,

his thoughts are tinged

with holocaust clouds.

 

And once Pan ventures

into the world beyond,

he discovers threads

of darkness have spread

from Arcadia and all

has become infested.

 

He sees the torrent

cities and the faces

of the tangled crowds,

the trash landscapes.

Arcadia is long dead,

the idyll lost forever.

And Pan understands

his tunes must always

be stained with reality.

 



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