They fell here. Not with fire or trumpets. Just a slow sink into the dirt. Old gods. Their blood soaked the roots before anyone noticed the sky had gone quiet. Marble skulls split under wet loam Halos sunk in moss, edges flaked off Thunder god’s ribs poke through the black dirt Lightning gone dead, just worms in the split Their power leaks out in slow black sap Trees drink it down, no thanks, no prayers back Roots of the fallen gods Pull it all under Dark forest takes what the heavens left No light gets through Blackwood owns every last throne One god’s jawbone lies in the leaves Another’s crown is tangled in weeds They don’t speak now They don’t move Just rot and feed the same ground we walk through Roots of the fallen gods Chew the bones clean Forest grows fatter on the scraps of the sky Nothing left sacred Blackwood becomes the final throne No hymns left No names left Just the wet sound of roots working (Deeper) (Deeper) (Deeper) Roots of the fallen gods Swallow the last prayer Forest stands taller on the graves of the sky No gods, no mercy Blackwood becomes the final throne They fell here. The forest didn’t ask. It just grew. Roots still drinking. Thrones still claimed. Nothing left above us but branches and rot.
