The Curse
Ed Blundell
Four thousand years had melted by,
Since that ancient time before,
Four thousand years had passed since last,
They had sealed the tomb’s stone door.
Carved guardians watched in silence,
As the centuries unfurled,
And other watchers guarded,
That were not of this world.
Men came again to the valley,
Seeking fame, that fragile thing,
And from the ancient writing,
Traced the burial place of the king.
So sweating under the desert sun,
They dug the sand for days,
Until once more, the ancient door,
Bathed in the sun god’s rays.
And as they broke the guardian stones,
Something stirred within.
The watchers that the priests had set,
To punish such a sin.
Of the punishment for sacrilege,
What did they know or care,
They violated the ancient shrine,
To peer at the treasures there.
The curious world gaped with them
As they entered the sacred place,
So thousands gazed and looked amazed
Upon the god king’s face.
Then one by one the watchers,
Stalked the spoilers in the night,
And one by one, for what they’d done,
They died in screaming fright.
They raved about hawk- headed monsters,
And with their dying breath,
They mumbled prayer, in deep despair,
To the eldritch, black god, death.
They perished in shivering agony,
Of fever and plague and worse
For those who ignore, the pharaoh’s law,
Are the victims of pharaoh’s curse.
