Rested upon blankets of wild blossoms,
Into her arms fell a swan like a stone,
It saw fear introduced into her lungs,
Caught in moments by one moment alone,
In the white rush of past experience,
As white feathers seduced her in false guise,
Into an all far from heavenly trance,
Beneath olive trees amidst all her sighs,
As if by the roots of those ancient trees,
She was pinned up and held down by his wings,
Ignored was all of her begging and plies,
Only for this to be the fall of kings,
And then she was left like a twisted thorn,
Never knowing what battles would be born.