After but a moment,
Drowning in a sea of confusion,
All hope dashed against rocks of despair,
Her firm resolve culminates in
V I O L E N C E . . .
S i l e n c e...

"For the one who has died has been acquitted from his sin."—Romans 6:7

After but a moment,
The maiden awakens
To peaceful surroundings.

"...Why are you causing noisy confusion and weeping?
The young child has not died, but is sleeping."
"Then, taking the hand of the child, he said to her, 'Tal'i-tha cu'mi,'
which, when translated, means: 'Little girl, I say to you, get up!'"—Mark 5:39, 41

Her eyes slowly adjust as
Her recognition rushes
With audible cries of joy:
"My Mother... My Father... You look so much younger, you do!
My Brother... and the others! Could this really be true?"

As the sun shines, our eyes rain thousands of tears
For the thousands of years of exquisite delight before us.

"...and he said that something should be given her to eat."—Mark 5:43

She feasts on curing fruit, and does willingly stoop
To drink from the river of water of life.
"In the reflection I see
What could have been,
What should have been,
Yes, what now is true for me!"

Oh, Vanessa, what grand, joyful reunion!
Love...
Joy...
Peace...
Innocence of youth reclaimed!

Please sing me a new song, my darling girl.
Please sing me a new song again.

"Do not be amazed at this, for the hour is coming
in which all those in the memorial tombs will
hear his voice and come out..."—John 5:28, 29

I’ve come so far

Did it leave a mark?
How big is the scar?
Somehow I misunderstood and the fragility was mine

Space and time immortal in the moment
But the moment after that...
is the one which won't relent

I started this way, but to my dismay, life had other plans

A day like any other, to make and break the world


At the time it seemed to be.. Rationality,

As if I had a choice, I thought I took a chance

Renouncing doubt I dove in,

To pay the fee and get it out, the finite and allotted amount.

Alas it doesn't work that way.


15 years have come and gone,

From this side of forever... it doesn't seem so long

I didn't realize at the time

This story would be mine

There’s a burning in her eyes,
High reaching lace like a poison choker,
Hands around a swan’s throat,
She’s the type who would ****** the world,
Then break its neck,
But even then, she still spits poetry every time she speaks,
Everyone has their curses,
She hides hers in the darkness.