A Martyr's Rune

The sacrifice of all the light he gained
returning to reality again.
The tears they shed turned into living flames.
Impassioned dreams that streamed in misery.

The opening, a blast of emptiness.
The tomb enduring all the loss of bliss.
An entity of spirit growing stronger in belief
with glory pouring from its gory wounds.

A living dream that died too soon.
Their love of life become the doom
of sacrificial rites. The darkness
of the night was gaining ground.

An afterlife that took the light away.
The distance of the sunlight held at bay.
Another dream meandering
within the mental channels of the day.

Lost, the feel of ecstasy.
Ascension, and the misery took hold.
The sacrifice of living held askance.
The light of life immersed within
a dance of power and glory
that they never really had.

The rock remains. The children play
within its consciousness.
The agony upon the cross
can't bless the progeny they never made.

A martyr's rune. The endless tune
of sorrow in the wind. Still waiting
for divinity to send a blessing
blowing on the winds...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .