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Act Eight, Chapter One. Part One
                Part of a Grander Play.

A Holy War is afoot!
The lines are drawn in the sand, in blood 
The plans are conspired upon, 
priest gather like scavengers 
in the pallor, in the rooms, 
cracks of the home. 
Their cloaks flapping like wings of ravens. 
The generals buy time 
with there little black books. 
Pages from holy grimoire flutter
My little girl is dying, 
No. That is not possible. 
Just yesterday she was running 
….playing… BUT!
That is not my child, the hair, the lips…..maybe 
However the eyes, the eyes burn with infernos fire. 
Can you believe? No….
I slam my fist again the stone and only crimson rains. 
I fall to my knees!
I cry to an absolute absent adolescent GOD!
Can't think about that now. 
Feeling hell at my back. 
Have to make my mind clear, 
keep sanity in place, 
can’t let the moorings break…My thoughts? 
I must keep straight,
peace with my creator, 
my god what have I done? 
Are you in that sacred space?
That place, people call heaven? 
Or are you dead, gone? 
Lost to this madness of the universe.   


I of III

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