"but, what about the crops..?"

Thou hast slain me,
as surely as would you have wielded some terrible sword,
and slashed through muscle, and slashed through sinew and shattered bone...

Still and quiet in the dark would we lay,
your smooth back against my chest, my offering to you
clenched in that holy warmth,
one were we...

This night I sit aside, by the stillest of waters
and watch the white moon rise
through the willow veil,
while it's twin creeps slowly nearer across the mirror lake.

Where is the promised rain..?


Blogger E-ville said...

I really like that one. Sounds like betrayal or death. Just plain dark, longing, and sad.

3:08 AM  

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