Brazen heathen glory, fiery fist, blade sharp as her tongue
Young to old, fish to stone, see no friend in her bones
Yet if it’s strength they need, they beg and plea for her to come, come home
Blazing fury collide to show what’s right from wrong
To retreat relieved, alone with only the Fae to hear her woes
For it to all cycle again, the eve of tomorrow never ends

I know a grand old soul

Not the oldest of old, but a deep soul she had.

She stood Firm and Stout as others passed.

By most, she was ignored

By some, she was shunned.

By some, she was adored

By some, she was honored

And by a few she was talked to.

That few breathed into those gaunt limbs

A breath that filled the holes, completing her.

And she completed them, lending strength and sight

She stood as a student of students, and a teacher of teachers

To mo... read more

I once knew a women
pale in sight and virtue
she once wore flowers in her hair
so soon they wilted, faded right there
atop her skull in glistening locks
deadened remains of crimson hue
The eyes cast upon her wondered
waited to glimpse
to see the creation perceived undo

With flashing sight miracle night molded, melded
welded blades fought
they caught those dazed on deadened
crimson
in a sporadic haze of severed flesh
souls released truth

I once knew a women
pale ... read more