The Eternal Cycle: The Princes Whisper, The Warrior Sleeps
Seven Princes in darkness spoke,
Where silent winds through shadows broke.
James Black-Man treads the soil,
Time unraveling, fate uncoiled.
The Princes’ Decree
Ogomfo, liar, cloaked in night,
Spoke with venom, veiled in spite,
“Let us stunt his growing fire,
Trap his will in chains of mire.”
Osei Tutu, rich and vain,
Clutched his gold and spoke again,
“Let him kneel before my throne,
Bow to wealth, be bound in stone.”
Nsibidi, jealous, watched and swore,
“Let him cry, let sorrow pour,
Let his heart be torn in strife,
Let him curse his gifted life.”
Ayaba, lustful, whispered low,
“Let him wilt, let passion flow,
Drown his soul in love’s embrace,
Till he forgets his destined place.”
Kwaku Ananse, full of guile,
Laughed and wove his lazy wiles,
“Let him drag, let him wait,
Let his feet move slow with fate.”
Ologun, gluttonous, filled with greed,
“Let him eat, let hunger feed,
Let him thirst, let him crave,
Till his body makes a grave.”
Morning Star, trapped in ice,
Did not speak, did not entice,
She watched and waited, silent still,
Gathering power, bending will.
And so they stood, in darkness deep,
While mortal men remained asleep.
The Ancestors Gather
But far above, the spirits woke,
The ancestors saw, the heavens spoke.
They gathered close, their voices low,
Whispers weaving fate below.
Nana Ntikuma, time’s great guard,
Watched the stars and marked the scars,
He turned to Nehanda, wise and bright,
“Come,” he called, “for now is night.”
James Black-Man, young and strong,
Felt their pull, heard their song.
“Rise, my son,” the voices rang,
“Take the path where heroes sang.”
Eshe wept, her arms enclosed,
She kissed his brow, her grief arose.
“Be careful, son, for roads are steep,
And sins will wake when mortals sleep.”
The Greed of Men
James Black-Man roamed the lands of kings,
Saw their wars, their endless things.
He stood on hills where blood was spilled,
And spoke of greed that never filled.
“Seeking gold is seeking death,”
He warned them with his final breath.
“You build your tombs, you raise your walls,
Yet kings will fall when Mammon calls.”
But in Ayin’s halls so high,
The gods just watched with empty eyes.
They did not move, they did not speak,
And Morning Star began to weep.
“Fools,” she laughed, her voice like stone,
“You sit in light, yet stand alone.
You cast me down, you let me break,
Yet now you cower, now you shake?”
The Final Battle
Seven Princes crossed the land,
Darkness rising, fate at hand.
James Black-Man, with spear and blade,
Faced the horrors they had made.
He struck at Wrath, he shattered Greed,
He burned the vines of Lust’s cruel seed.
Yet though he fought, though strong he stood,
He knew the cost of spilling blood.
His shield was cracked, his sword was worn,
The weight of fate had left him torn.
He knelt upon the weary ground,
And cast his name without a sound.
He gave his birthright, gave his past,
Gave his strength, till breath was last.
And as the world held still in fright,
James Black-Man vanished into night.
The Princes Wait Once More
Morning Star, in frozen chains,
Waited still, yet felt the change.
Mammon whispered dreams of gold,
Asmodeus sang of passions old.
Leviathan seethed, his voice was raw,
Envy still burned in silent awe.
They did not move, they did not rise,
But darkness gleamed in hollow eyes.
The Warning
James Black-Man sleeps, but time grows weak,
And sins return as mortals seek.
When greed is fed, when tempers burn,
When lust and sloth no longer yearn—
The Veil will break, the ice will melt,
The Princes freed from where they dwelt.
Morning Star will rise anew,
Her chains will snap, her wrath pursue.
And when the warrior wakes once more,
Will men recall what came before?
Or shall they fall, as ages past,
And curse their names with dying gasps?
For fate is written, but choice is free,
The cycle turns eternally.