Epic of the Vampire; Canto IV- Venenum

The years passed along,

slowly, but surely crawled by,

and the immortals

continued their lives.

The darkness claimed their dear souls

as they sank into it.

Unable to think

of redemption from the curse

they became placant.

Convinced of their fate

they ruled the mortals with fear

and hatred blossomed

like a spring flower,

filling their whole existence.

They questioned themselves,

for what does sin mean,

when its your very nature,

an unchanging fact?

You kill for your food,

you feed on the unholy.

Evil fed on them.

That which made them man

trickled away like lifeblood-

compassion, mercy,

loving-kindness, faith.

Their souls became as their flesh-

cold, dead, frozen.

They yearned for something,

to feel human once again-

to feel anything.

Unable to die,

possessed of a half a life,

they cursed their maker

til anger faded

as despair shrouded their sight

and hatred was dulled.

How the years crawled by,

how quickly does dischord spread

among the undead.

They sought love in flesh;

new life unattainable

through normal methods,

even this lost charm,

in became vain and empty,

a passing pleasure.

How fleeting is lust,

how meaningless is pleasure

with its purpose lost.

An escape was sought

in drink- intoxication.

This- impossible,

when the deadened flesh

can feel none of the poison

imbibed as liquors.

There is no torment,

no torture, no power of dark,

no hell on this earth

quite like that they lived.

As generations passed on

and villages grew,

becoming cities

which then became nation states,

powers united

with other such towns,

the fortress sat unchanging,

claimed by deep despair.

Poisoned by the curse

which grew stronger as time passed,

with no redemption.

And the immortals

continued their lives.

Epic of the Vampire; Canto 2- Serpentum

The fallen angel

once shone brighter than any

like a star at night.

A prince in heaven,

yet he was a mere servant.

Pride stiffened his knees.

He was created,

and yet he lived without end.

Then God created-

created humans.

Created for God’s pleasure,

raised above the gods

made to serve the God.

The morning star grew jealous,

hatred grew its roots,

clinging to his heart.

The gracious Father knew this,

his heart broke from pain.

In mercy he called

his glorious one to him,

wanting repentance,

knowing he would not.

In hatred, the angel cursed

the one who made him.

Cast from the heavens

his rage he turned on humans-

feeble creations,

yet reflecting God,

those who bear his own thumbprints.

He soon determined

the best revenge be

by marring that image borne.

Sly as a serpent,

he befriended man,

drawing him aside in dark,

to strike the death blow.

Death, too merciful,

everlasting life he gave,

one not worth living.

Unable to speak

the name of his creator,

the word burned his lips.

Cast from paradise,

the angel grasped mankind’s heel,

like Jacob he clung,

dragging him to Hell.

He offered the forbidden

as the drink of life.

Sin would sustain life,

eternal isolation

without any rest.

Gleeful in his wrong,

the fallen angel rejoiced

at what his hands made.

He had made man fall,

unable to call on God,

trapped in the darkness.

Victory was his.

The fallen angel rejoiced

in his wrongdoing.

He celebrated

his revenge over the Lord,

or that’s what he thought.

He brought the long night

over the face of mankind,

the shadows were long.

He laughed at God’s face,

the one who created him,

he turned his back on.

Epic of the Vampire; Canto 1- In Principio

In the beginning,

God created the heavens

and man walked the earth.

He gave life, substance,

breath and shape. He imparted

His image on man.

God loved creation,

tended it and sustained it,

giving his own son.

Among the angels

one grew jealous of mankind,

and hated them much.

He plotted revenge

against God’s favored people.

How to make them fall?

This wretched creature

had no creativity,

he could only change

the nature of man.

“Blood is used for atonement,

ambrosia, life blood.

It is blood I use

to humble this creation.

Forbidden to drink

this drink offering.

I decree they will partake,

to sustain in death

a half-life in dark.

They will feel nothing but cold,

for breath will not pass

between their foul lips.”

Thus saying, he took a man,

wrought the curse on him.

Not dead or alive,

he preyed on blood of his kin,

his friends he drank dry.

A monster, alone,

but when he drank, he could feel

the warmth of their flesh,

their closest held dreams.

For a moment he was man,

only as he drank.

Revolted, he stopped,

refused to drink mankind’s blood.

In a hateful rage

the jealous angel

sent him into a frenzy,

taking his free will,

making him a beast.

Villages he would ravage,

man, woman, and child-

none were safe from him.

Yet the monster craved a mate,

as the years were long

and he could not die.

“It is good for him to have

one to hold, like him.”

The jealous angel

took a woman and changed her,

making a partner.

Because they lived not,

a child’s life they could not make,

child of their own flesh,

to them was given

the power to make others,

their children of death.

The fallen angel

did this to make mockery

of his creator.

Epic of the Vampire; Introduction

There once was a time

when we lingered not in dark,

where shadows cloak us.

There was once a time

when we greeted the sunlight

warm on living flesh.

That time has since passed.

This tale is of creation,

of our creation.

Readers will know us,

of the legends and the myths,

they will give us name.

We are the vampires,

monsters, the drinkers of blood,

chastised with sacred.