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Behind the memory was the innocence of the day. Behind the tears she cried was promise they made, The forgotten hope and the promise of tomorrow, She kneeled before the altar of their god in silent prayer to the past she must let go, To pain of the first love she keeps buried within, Her innocence has long since burned away in the passage of the night, She sits upon her aging throne looking in to the field she once worked, Her hands wither with age, Her heart scarred and worn from the years of pain, She kneels before the altar of her god A solemn tree stumped carved into a solemn example of the masters work, Ages have passed since she first knelt here, Her hands caress the fine texture of the altar as the rain begin to pour, Ages passed since she loved like she has before, Ages passed since she believed with blind faith, as she should do, But a child is no longer the one before the altar praying for her grand, But the woman who has learned not to believe or trust everything or anything she has seen or is told. It is hard to fall from grace when grace stands upon two feet and never question the truth. Is it the truth we seek that has driven my need for knowledge or is it the weight of the place of the world, To finally understand the waking life is the same as the sleeping keeper of the grand night, I look out in to the night as the screams are heard Watching the keys slowly appear upon the gates of the night realm, Not many more are left they whisper, Will she take a stand and walk the path she was mark to walk at the beginning, She has suffered due to everything she has never known, But now she knows and is gaining the knowledge, How will she use the keys she was given by those before her? I hear them constantly talking in the back of my mind in the corridor of the veil , There I stand before the passing of the night upon veil, Shrouded in black, white and silver robes the ethereal keys hanging around my neck the three, the gossamer ribbons of radiant silver light spanning out behind me, I stand at the veil the watching the passage of the dead.
sammaelsgoddess · Fri Nov 09, 2007 @ 04:11am · 0 Comments |
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