Is it blood or wine
that dyed the holy rivers
crimson through our presence,
and enraged the Moon Fairy
fiercely enough to justify
the descent of judging moonlight?
Are we intoxicated through alcohol
or the soul-devouring darkened bloodlust?
Do we seek the essence of being
in forgotten realms created
by forlorn memories of
that which is now dead,
or do we dance through dreams
praying for providence to guide
our twisted smiles
past the boundaries
that shackle us to
our living hell?
Is there a world left untouched
by the ruin of the Tyrant's love?
Will we ever find our most precious life
in the shadows of the heresies we professed,
beyond the shackles of a decaying world
that binds us to the misery of lost purpose -
have our lives been bitter for so long
that we are destined to dance
within dreams, to the tune of providence
guiding us into endless torment,
with pain screaming within us
louder every morning
as the sun rises higher?
