Achaean News
Deepest Emotions.
Written by: Penguin Prankster Phoebe Campbell-Storm, Heavenly Siren
Date: Sunday, September 7th, 2003
Addressed to: Everyone
the night falls as if slain by the sun, entwined are we.
It is a night of ethereal pain, a song of sorrow,
Now a night of new awareness,
I weep.
I am chained here, lost in the night:
tearing through this bitter emptiness,
heart so torn and empty.
this desire so severed,
a tragic abyss,
forgotten;
Around, all around, the dark memories gather.
My dread grows as the angry hand of Heaven falls against my heart.
It wounds me, and darkly my
essence drips
to the wicked earth that is my prison.
In unholy terror I call your name
while death follows.
Now alone, my cascade of tears falls upon bloody eyes.
This is my salvation
Slender beams of moonlight enter
this darkened chamber as I kneel,
always a slave, always hopeful,
frozen here,
waiting.
Accusing forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
rending my exposed soul.
A reflection on a deathless face.
I raise my head, now crying out for
this oblivious darkness.
Devoured by a velvet ebon nothingness.
our dark emotions surround us, crying,
save us from ourselves.
Penned by my hand on the 21st of Mayan, in the year 343 AF.
Deepest Emotions.
Written by: Penguin Prankster Phoebe Campbell-Storm, Heavenly Siren
Date: Sunday, September 7th, 2003
Addressed to: Everyone
the night falls as if slain by the sun, entwined are we.
It is a night of ethereal pain, a song of sorrow,
Now a night of new awareness,
I weep.
I am chained here, lost in the night:
tearing through this bitter emptiness,
heart so torn and empty.
this desire so severed,
a tragic abyss,
forgotten;
Around, all around, the dark memories gather.
My dread grows as the angry hand of Heaven falls against my heart.
It wounds me, and darkly my
essence drips
to the wicked earth that is my prison.
In unholy terror I call your name
while death follows.
Now alone, my cascade of tears falls upon bloody eyes.
This is my salvation
Slender beams of moonlight enter
this darkened chamber as I kneel,
always a slave, always hopeful,
frozen here,
waiting.
Accusing forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
rending my exposed soul.
A reflection on a deathless face.
I raise my head, now crying out for
this oblivious darkness.
Devoured by a velvet ebon nothingness.
our dark emotions surround us, crying,
save us from ourselves.
Penned by my hand on the 21st of Mayan, in the year 343 AF.