What She Sees
Her orange eyes,
though focused as a hawk's on prey,
don't see the hall
purple and obsidian
that stretches in before her,
or the deformed armies
who wait at her beck and call.
She doesn't see the crystal sphere
directly in front of her
though her hands continue to caress it.
In her first commander,
she doesn't see the senseless devotion
deep within his blue-violet eyes.
Nor does she see
what he accomplished in her name
his amassing of energy and information --
or the look of betrayal on his face
framed in blonde, smeared from battle,
when she silences his pleas forever
in endless ice.
In her second commander,
she misses a growing belligerence
and animosity between
this second and he who will be third.
She doesn't see
how he is slipping toward the enemy --
but he doesn't either;
neither sees it coming when
death shocks his blue eyes and green blood
mats his auburn hair.
In her third commander,
she doesn't see the pursuit of his goals
that he tries to accomplish with all of his heart,
and she doesn't notice the fact
that his heart is only for her future fourth.
She is blind to the knowledge
that her ruthless, reckless, copper-haired third
with a vengeful spirit within poison-green eyes
will do something that she doesn't see coming --
though she will kill him for it.
In her fourth commander,
she should see that pain that crosses his face
as she eliminates the third.
But she doesn't, and continues to miss
the empty, primal hurt in his ice-blue eyes
and the hatred that blinds him
as surely as she is blind herself --
she doesn't see him lose his nature of fight
or his will to live
not even when it causes his death.
In it that commands her --
her goddess, her demon mistress,
embodiment of evil and malice,
there is a growing mood of impatience.
It is over her blindness,
but she does not see this
or that she is walking on thin ice
and that her own ineptitude
is putting her into boundless danger
of her own doing.
She is aware of all these things, but she does not see them.
So what does she see?
She sees her dreams --
the earth falling before her feet,
and the downfall of her sworn enemies.
She can see this with utmost clarity
when she will truly be the queen
that she styles herself,
when finally all her years of servitude
of being a monarch of nothingness
will terminate, and yield
in her absolute glory.
But her vision is impeded most by armor,
silver and blue and black,
and by the man within,
blue-eyed and raven-haired and noble --
what she sees
is the prince she desires
choosing not to see that his destiny
lies with another and cannot be denied.
She doesn't see that in his heart of hearts
he despises her.
She does not see that everyone around her feels the same.
And her blindness will be her downfall.
Notes: Short and sweet and simple. Easy writing, which began its life as a fic, done in about fifteen minutes, that I considered too short, and redid as a poem. No angst, no romance, no nothing. 'Cause it's Beryl, for pity's sake. I mean, she's often overlooked, but I don't see her as complex -- just a victim of self-inflicted stupidity.
Oh, and the characters referred to aren't mine. Did I need to mention that?
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