She was about love in sweet bliss of blind,
A woman of protective devotion,
Absorbed in the dawn,
Deaf to the approaching storm.
Curtain of dismay and decline descended,
She became of the lost.
Vanished into the wind bits of her,
Suffering in her breath
She whispered of vengeance,
And consumed in the dark clouds of Change,
Collapsed into the soft sands of doubt,
She dissolved into enmity and war.
She surrendered to the discomfort,
She heeded to the rocks’ vibration,
She drowned in the shallow stream
Of darkness and the dying.
Transformed into wings of a crow,
She detained the shadows of twilight.
She was about nothing and everything,
A woman of determined creation,
She bore the mask of mystery
And entwined in a bind of thorns,
She sought a release,
An absolution from regret.
She became the deliverer and forgiver,
A woman who walks the path
Through the tempest and the mourn,
Covered in grime and plume,
Sought the infinite loop to the South,
She, of the lost, passed into the light.