A gathering storm,
Of her pitiless faults,
Words, actions, thoughts,
In deed no absolution.
A weary affliction,
This weight of wrong,
The assault unnamed,
No trial for conviction.
The melancholy moon let out a sigh,
And spoke thus to the night,
“Oh what a fright, the child’s deed
And dread. She lives a humorless breath,
Scorned by love for her numb despair.”
The night agreed and shook its mane,
Let loose a dash of stars that said,
“Child let go, you are small yet,
You do not see, nor do possess
The wit and fury that love craves.”
Love has gone and so must you,
Heathen child of Sin and Guilt,
Walk in silence and pray to none
Godless, you must walk alone.
Silken treasures begotten of love, now
Wrapped in lace of misery and despise,
The child walked away to starless skies,
Faithless, delivered her soul to truth.