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,
bravery,
beauty,
kindness –
Drowning
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.

lost

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