Monday, July 9, 2012


Fay and darkened, tainted child,
Set upon the winds a-wild.
Keeper of the Anon Flame
Who wanders hapless, if untamed.

Let them come, all for to spite her,
Those who mock and feed her fire.
Every tear that turns to mirth
Swells the oceans foamy girth.

If but the sun and moon could speak,
Or softly kiss the tawny cheek,
Oh the words that would describe
The galaxies within her eyes.

Forged by night and day akin
And naught to grace this path again.
Every prick and bloody drop
Has scarred the road on which she walked.

Raven hair and unkempt will,
Bridal not her passions still.
But let the weilder run astray
From the chains they silent lay.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

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