The Lost Saint

The battle rages,
in Heraclea.
A scarlet curtain hung
upon its sky;
A scarlet river flowed
throughout the land;
as the recidivist appears.

I stood to face
the gleamless eyes.
“Mercy, O heavens be
upon my soul!
I stand not to lose
the jewel I praise!”
But alas! The broken lips
cruved into the half-moon.

Poison trickles
upon my soul,
My teeth clenched
to suppress the infernal fangs,
My skin –
the unforgiving ice.
Enter seraphim! Set fire
to the one engulfed in darkness.

My eyes wander
upon thy smile in the moonlight.
Thy breathless charm,
kindness –
in the sea of oblivion.

The earth crumbled
all at once,
as rays of light
touched my eyelids open.
The sun could never wipe out
the horrors of the dying light.
A star fell.
A saint was lost.



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