Taelra

Flee from me, oldest foe of mine, Mark her departure true and bright; End this resounding burthensome time That in sorrow's darkest blight, Doth wrest my sanity hollow, still. Flee from thought; flee at will. Flee from me, true companion of mine, With conceited eyes of lustre bright: Purloin my dying heart one final time That in a passing moment's delight, Doth cease its throbbing, still. Freed from thought; freed at will.

A figure, there, stood - standing, waiting by an open door, It heaves and breathes with woes, as if in beckon for no more. With desperate hands clambering, searching for respite, The walls beside him climbed, though stand relentless in their height. Chestnut eyes rusted with greys; long, now, are his days, A flow to mirror his crown of hair, yet splintering in decay, Olive skin with vigour, adorning, reforming to a husk, The birthing of his dawn has now wilted into dusk. A child of mist and ashen-grey cloud bore against his breast, With his mind to infest, his own heart he came to detest, Till it came blackened and charred, marred to disrep

Won't you remember the calling of Their bells? The infinite allure of their resonance stricken And step backward into darkness unfurling, The ever reaching, ashen-grey clouds -- Back into your sweet sanctity wherein shadows, my arms reside open To embrace you as gently you so drift: My once enduring, autumnal leaf, Now sapped of warmth by my winters wrought, So frail, so cold -- Falling ever from my reach To heights my arms scream to grasp. I bide my days in a prison of madness, Amazed by taunting memories quaint and cruel And cover with cracked hands The flickering ember, fated to fade: The remnant spark of our love. I cover it with my be

Her jewels of onyx glint diadem my throne in her eyes yet beheld; Her opulent stars to which even tree and stone far below bend before. I stay to mineself in fleeting shadows neath the solace of her own, Though durstn't forgo the unmarred dream of her tender wings above. Claimed at thought not yet misgiven and of own heart now purloined, From deep within my breast, a most passionate ember I wrest, And from beneath the passing skies overhead cry out my lay to thee: "Dear 'Gale, dear 'Gale - your song consumes me so! Dancing o'er all, with such elegance I cannot neglect, Nor remove thought from the keepsake of my stilled eyes! From your sweete

The dreary nights, filled with the treacherous terrors of his own mind’s stalking inhabitants looming at every turn, were now frequent recurrences for Garrick: no droplet of rain now fell with such respite as once they did; no one tree appeared green and flourishing as once they were; no heart-warming breeze of the Earth’s soft breaths now offered its comforting pillows of fortitude. Instead, the rains fell like a barrage of unavoidable daggers, laced with Death’s own spiteful bite, which anchored themselves deeply within flesh upon their eager contact and, with each of their consecutive kin to come, drove themselves in fart

Come; journey through this mournful shoal, Where life is void and light has faded, And submit to Winter's shadows overcasting, As the ebbing tide of seeping frost claims you, Just as it has, I. Fall; knee weak, to the deceiving depths, Sinking thousand a fathom ever farther with me. Sadistic spectres pull at my motionless leg - A chain by which to sink me to my Lord's side, To where you cannot find. By all thought misguided, absent your touch, I drown in the sadness of your empty pools; Upon their inverted faces you gaze and scry fate, And witness the faintest glimmer of my heart, Splinters far sown. Cast far from the beckoning whim of Daw

He was her darkness; the corruption of the pure, The spreading doubt that flung its shadows far, Choking the mountains in their death-hazed wake, And swallowing the skies within wrathful plumes. The Sun struggled to keep its watchful eye gazing, As his cruel reign of terror beckoned only the dark, And with a mighty roar, he extinguished its rays, Returning it, prematurely, into temporal slumber. She was his solace; the sanctifier of the damned, The evanescent respite yet amidst the unconsecrated, Blessing the dark soils in light of her splendour, And beckoning love's return from their volatile soils. The Spectre cowers, subdued by her shimme

He, Breaker of Dawn, and the Caster of Shadows; whose slumbering soul sings its final resonance - a melody of unity from within chaos was forged, Lays dreary waste where its reaches merely touch Channelling through the unified elements of all, Leaving mosaic carvings for the Dreamer to weave. The Dreamer shudders in her bedding opulence, White, hanging silks laced with golden strings; Mere reflections of the boundless light within, The ephemeral lands of her tormented creatures. They live in light, though have yet to feel it, And seek solace in the shadows of all her doubt. Pale, undisturbed beauty, in her sleeping lulled, Envelo