In the mist she was standing,
Under the weeping moon.
A silhouette cast by
The Forest of October.
Night beckons and the Twighlight is my robe,
A Requiem to the Apostle in Triumph.
Now comes the Advent of the Night,
And the Silent water mixes softly with the Nectar spilling
From the Black rose.
Immortal dawn rises and the time has come
To Bid you farewell.
This Prologue is but a portent of April.
Ethereal voices ask when and why
Madrigal cries, softly in the Amen Corner.
The Demon of the fall has little credence in this place,
And the Karma of his life becomes the Epilogue of sorrow.
As I walk across The Moor,
I hear the Godhead's Lament,
Steering its way through Benighted hills,
Darkened by the Moonlapse.
Vertigo siezes hold as I stare at the Face of Melinda filled with Serenity.
Painted Death and blood fill my mind.
A White Cluster in sight while darkness entwines.
I am drawn by The Leper Affinity,
A Bleak prospect though the Harvest may be.
The Drapery Falls, at the sound of the Dirge for November,
And the Funeral Portait is finished.
Entrancing Patterns in the Ivy
Entice me to submerge into Blackwater Park
And the Still day, beneath the sun, witnesses my end.
(continued next post)
Under the weeping moon.
A silhouette cast by
The Forest of October.
Night beckons and the Twighlight is my robe,
A Requiem to the Apostle in Triumph.
Now comes the Advent of the Night,
And the Silent water mixes softly with the Nectar spilling
From the Black rose.
Immortal dawn rises and the time has come
To Bid you farewell.
This Prologue is but a portent of April.
Ethereal voices ask when and why
Madrigal cries, softly in the Amen Corner.
The Demon of the fall has little credence in this place,
And the Karma of his life becomes the Epilogue of sorrow.
As I walk across The Moor,
I hear the Godhead's Lament,
Steering its way through Benighted hills,
Darkened by the Moonlapse.
Vertigo siezes hold as I stare at the Face of Melinda filled with Serenity.
Painted Death and blood fill my mind.
A White Cluster in sight while darkness entwines.
I am drawn by The Leper Affinity,
A Bleak prospect though the Harvest may be.
The Drapery Falls, at the sound of the Dirge for November,
And the Funeral Portait is finished.
Entrancing Patterns in the Ivy
Entice me to submerge into Blackwater Park
And the Still day, beneath the sun, witnesses my end.
(continued next post)