… And From The Grey She’s Born

Immaculate is she, born to an earth of flesh and mud, and a sky of mist and blood, born to him of the fragile heart and to her of the fertile mind. Through the haze of her ashen eyes you see the dawn of an unborn world, for in her every blink she sends a wave of anguish to chase away the Cimmerian clouds smothering your heart. With bleeding words and a fading breath, the pain untold purifies your sinful soul, as the pouring rain from them heavenly pearls cleanses your mortal shell with an ocean of quiescent solace, leaving an eternal trail of invisible scars on your ever-lying façade.

Touched by a feather of a broken wing, you stand again and count the thorns, for the crown you wear is earned not by the blood you shed, but the blood you save, and the black of tar running through your veins shall be drained out by the smiles of those once burnt, of those once shattered, and of those once lost. Only then, the black within shall set free the light besieged, to welcome back the grey for which you yearned.

H.Q.
20:15
Sunday
03/02/2013