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Enya “Dark Sky Island”
The snowflakes fell
Each frozen tear released stained red
Within the winter bones she bled
While fierce winds circled overhead
Her cuirass pierced by death’s lament
The end, her friend, was drawing near
Each frozen tear aflame this day
As dawning rays of night then sped
The blight had hit her village hard
Raped and pillaged all she loved
As above, so below bellowed
Suddenly, her wild eyes mellowed
Hell had frozen over to elaborate her plight
Yet, she was no mute acolyte
Suffering in silence
Violently subjected to unkind deed and perspective
Within the winter bones she bled
The end, her friend, lent air despaired
Declared intention less than charmed
To see her final breath disarmed
Her weeping palms no psalm undressed
No sorrow owed of penance blest
For this was no stigmata
Unacquainted martyrdom
Black Dahlia arose
Composed a sweeping symphony
At midnight’s hour of harm
Burnt amber sun had come undone
Of golden tone the rivers run
Midst enfilade of daylight reinvention
The frosted moon, ne’er gone too soon
In marmalade and ash was spun
Its capture felt of rapture strewn
Anchored in amenable detention
The snowflakes fell
Each frozen tear exhumed stained red and bled for two
Her welling eyes wore telling sigh
Embellished in reflection
Undilated hate, want, waste, depression
The hellish pains she masqueraded
Still remained in swoopstake
Yet, come what way
Her dying day nowise harsh fate persuaded
The soil beneath her dainty feet
Had softened in rejoice
Of cracks in every silence bled
To lend address her voice
For she was seen
In the between
Betwixt the twisting longleaf trees
The grief she felt no less pronounced
Yet, death’s lament no cleft announced
Parting breath had been bled out
On blessèd turf of keen devout
The end, her friend felt less impressed
With lungs, she sung
She screamed
She shouted
“Have at you!”
Then bade adieu
To skin within which flowers bloomed
Black Dahlia arose
From throes of spoiling mortal coil’s dispose
Chose each petal to unfurl
Expose the kiss of lips stripped curl
While, all about
The snowflakes fell
To tell the tale of tears stained red, in kind
“No end!”
Her newfound friend declared
Black Dahlia then sighed.
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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