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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The burial ground, groomed to greet the gatherers of their love apocalypse with garlands grown and sown from the rose fire of Athena's throne, on this day they come to mourn the Poet who perished for the passion of his Beloved Poetess, the battlefields knew well the iron of their blood, the salt of their sweat, and the pounce of their love, raised in the tradition of trauma trained by the tempest of temptation disciplined in the competition of desires refined in the violent rituals of victory they rose in love with everything their hearts could sing, with all that war would bring, and in the epicenter of erotic chaos he slashed himself with the alter sword so that she may be free to rule this realm, Valkyries stand vigil with primroses on speartips gaurding him, a purple glow in their vigilant eyes, softly humming for the lightning of his soul as those in attendance find their solemn places, many are present, Death is in the northeast corner cloaked in smooth black patience knowing in sad satisfaction that every heart, beats to bleed no more, Devotion, dressed in a mood of disbelief with elbows out and fists on his hips just stares sternly at everyone, one, by one, Poetry and Love are wearing the reds of romance and sacrifice while whispering living tears to eachother, Humble remains seated, meek and agape clasping Humility's dull hand commiserating about too much and not enough as Pride stands near, leaning coolly against a battered pillar of Roman endurance looking at them as if to say, hey dumb dumbs, don't disgrace their glory with your glum and glib sully, Envy, in burnoose sackcloth wasted not the somber moment to decry the Poet's purpose with claptrap commotion and no compassion, in unison, all hush his pusillanimous pout with a scalding Ssshhhhhh!!!!!!!!! Poetry, asking the Beloved Widow if she may speak is granted permission after a breathless pause of heart heated exhaustion, producing a daggar made from the breastbone of Eve unflinchingly Poetry cuts both cheeks below her eyes and the blood promenades to her ancient lips where the warm pages of a white rose receive the ruby smear of this tragedy, bringing the pleading flower to her own mouth she releases a verse upon the universe... When the nights knew no love and her heart had only the shadow of warmth he became the hero's breath upon her breast the weapon she could trust and the victor of her kiss, when his strength served only survival and desolation weighed the wings of his heart low she gave his soul the sweet heat of a woman's touch, teaching him that justice is alive in their love... In the unbearable anguish of existing without him she stomps to the blue marble casket, tearing it open with love rage, to slap and kiss her Beloved Poet once more, suddenly, heart imploding panic bristles silently, the air thins dangerously, Pride plows through the throng to the side of she, astonished, shock joy shaping his face, the Poet's body be not there, only the symbol of their love resides therein, a golden pair of quills connecting in the center of a heart their sign, their promise to eachother, she turns to Love imploringly, for the truth, and he removes the jewel from the coffin returning it to it's rightful place the safety of her bossom, telling her tenderly, he yet lives for you, his love for you dies not - J.A.B.
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