Page 48 - NS 2024

Crimson Darkness
Oblivious to oblivion, we stray blind.
Ill intentions won’t defend us from the unceasing shadows creasing gallows.
To wallow in the shallow darkness, we
must rest our festering grace, sparing maidens from themselves. Felled elven groves aren’t lost from the sun, delving
out of glades smothering rays of mourning light. Stoked coals kindle brightest flames, a lick of dragonfire meant to cleanse; yet spittles whittle wills of men, for none defend their dens till end. An origin of pools reflected stays undetected below mortal portals and glistens silently.
But all rivers lead to oceans—sinuous roots of Poseiden’s reach breaching each crusty hemisphere—they dare seafarers to stay unseen unless exposed.
A rose amid a field of thorns
may not be worth the waltz,
faults and flaws can sprawl along and
erase any pretty picture drawn. Fauns
are brought before a court of fates, those born late are lives cut short for sport and any left can live in bliss, not knowing
that the bullet missed. Was it dodged or
is a hodge-podge lodging on this orb a
poor reward? We cannot guess what Heaven sent survivor may guilt us now with hymns in tow; all we know is that the fallen son has become the only one to run from now. Heard the rain are tears from him, but
sins don’t wash away with paper-thin sheets of salty droplets dropped from pops. Try to do better, all these letters piled high unanswered are papers torn from woes
and foes seeping crimson. Weeping, Eve