Fourteen

So, it seems we are a good way through this thing already, but there is so much more to look forwards to! Here’s today’s poem!

Tendrils of ice wound their way over golden fields

Bringing cure and respite to those burning women so cold

Under streaking moonlight the fragments receded into wind

Whence comes the symphony of misbegotten prayers

To the pretender God whose eyes snapped shut

In the void of ancient eons where we are alone

Before that one with such passionate pupils so sweet

Where midnight kisses drown forever the morning

With the nightshade whispers of a happier memory that this one

Thus draws in dusk and lulls us into slumber

So do we become one of ice and rain

We are no longer burning

Now is the age of frost

 

Short, I know, but thanks for reading.