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II — The Dark Mystic — XIII
A shroud of metamorphisis
Full of knowledge stored within;
The librarian of Alexandria,
Wisdom bestowed to her next of kin
An enamoured Moon,
meandering across the skies
A celestial noon
A sonata the Sun decries!
For her darkness spreads through land near and far
A mystical dream of twilight,
The mist a pole star
For it surrounds her
Enveloping all she may see
The darkness a blur,
Yet vision clear;
Her intuition the skeleton key.
The violent violet void full of entities unknown
To all but her—for this sanctuary is their home
That demons stand entreating—
Knocking, knocking, never fleeting—
For they too cling to life
Energy they will not let go.
The cycle must continue as all fades to black;
The Reaper shrieks and cries to the Demon: "Valac,
In Solomon's name, protect this soul
Who has summoned you here.
Be not the plaque of misfortune but success;
Heed my toll, O grand agent of fear!"
Her eyes flutter open, the storm quelled in her dreams
Flashes of purple coat her eyes in a sheen
Of visions unforgotten,
Burned into her mind;
The Wheel of Time turns—
To her memory she is resigned.
As the day comes to a close
And to her bed she retreats
She is reminded that Death is a revolution
That will forever
Repeat.
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