• On a gelid night, Such as this,
    A mistress emerged from the light,
    And laid the serpents kiss,
    As the blasphemer faced his fears,
    He fell frigid to the floor, with a violent hiss.

    A face of Sevres, glares towards the moon,
    Committing soliloquy, In solemn silence,
    Slaking My thirst for swoon,
    As I sat in thier graveyard,
    In the dead midst of June.

    Leaving in the waking hours,
    With sunlight shattering my porcelain face,
    I traveled to a land, promising embowers,
    As madness becomes a lace, upon my lips,
    While I search this land, while I scour,
    In light to find a trace,
    Of lifes source, Lifes power.

    (With hope and courage to carry me through)

    Voices of Sapphia's laments,
    Resound through arcades of Mimosa,
    Binding me to my mental hell of petulance.

    The searing pain of the Archa's,
    Had not brought the terminus of my damnation,
    Leaving me to rot, but not to die,
    Sending me down for trepidation.

    Locked to misery,as If by placenta,And agonized ponder,
    Ushering me through the throes of the wanderer.

    Soon with resurgence, This world of pain,
    Will be cast beneath the darkest clouds,
    To drown beneath the cruelest of rain,
    To wash away this heart's distain,
    So that no trace remained.

    I now recall, the first full moon,
    Back in her vast graveyard,
    The night I layed with her, back in June,
    The night when all for me had ended,
    The night I would've traded for swoon.
    (The night I buried myself beside my love,
    The night I flew from the garden,
    Within the embrace of doves)

    The sun, Bringing out the color of her eyes,
    Was hot on my face, reflecting in cold mirrors,
    That were highlighted to be the color of the skies,
    If this was a dream, I wish not to be woken.
    (It was then, we were reunited)

    Gethsemane is no longer a plague upon my world,
    Lest this be the axiom of a twisted scheme.