Nov 2014
Of withering tempests screaming to the break of sunlight,
Of unrelenting wind and pounding rain, she stands
With her back to crashing waves and painful bellowing,
A weak induction of steady sighs and silent contemplation
Would perhaps bring a peaceful conclusion to the rage
And reproach of a Goddess stirring on the fringes of insanity.
But never would it have taken to fresh insanity,
The gentle swirling of confusion between glaring eyes and sunlight,
How she would wish never to part from the burning of rage
And leave a scorched shadow on the very place she stands.
Never did she desire for the learned art of contemplation
But instead found solace in a frozen lake of tears and bellowing.
At the end of such a night filled with harsh anxiety and frenzied bellowing,
She finds herself staring into the gleaming eyes of Insanity,
Who dwells in sweet and blissful contemplation
And harvests the piteous glow of sunlight
Such that any man would freeze and cease where he stands
And succumb to the urgings of exhilarating rage.
A chilling gust would release the embracing rage
And perhaps bring wishful silence to the obnoxious bellowing;
She feels her feet sinking through the sand and stands
out of reach from the tearing claws of Insanity.
Relief in the warmth of ethereal sunlight
Proves a worthy companion of contemplation.
Eudaimonia, she finds in her deep contemplation
Free of sorrow, empty and weary from her onslaught of rage,
She casts herself into the welcoming cracks of sunlight
And in Euphoria, she finds herself no longer bellowing,
The slow and steady pull of her chains toward Insanity
Break away and leave her where she stands.
In new light, she finds her strength and stands,
Embracing the drifting stream of wraithlike contemplation
Would send shivers and open wounds that might invite Insanity,
But turning around and gazing out into those waves might blind the Rage
And bring peaceful sighs to interrupt the senseless bellowing
Such that black clouds would give way to glorious sunlight.
To the death of Rage and the estrangement of Insanity,
The wistful bellowing banished in the silence of contemplation,
The Goddess stands with her back to the wind, tears dried by the warm sunlight.
Of unrelenting wind and pounding rain, she stands
With her back to crashing waves and painful bellowing,
A weak induction of steady sighs and silent contemplation
Would perhaps bring a peaceful conclusion to the rage
And reproach of a Goddess stirring on the fringes of insanity.
But never would it have taken to fresh insanity,
The gentle swirling of confusion between glaring eyes and sunlight,
How she would wish never to part from the burning of rage
And leave a scorched shadow on the very place she stands.
Never did she desire for the learned art of contemplation
But instead found solace in a frozen lake of tears and bellowing.
At the end of such a night filled with harsh anxiety and frenzied bellowing,
She finds herself staring into the gleaming eyes of Insanity,
Who dwells in sweet and blissful contemplation
And harvests the piteous glow of sunlight
Such that any man would freeze and cease where he stands
And succumb to the urgings of exhilarating rage.
A chilling gust would release the embracing rage
And perhaps bring wishful silence to the obnoxious bellowing;
She feels her feet sinking through the sand and stands
out of reach from the tearing claws of Insanity.
Relief in the warmth of ethereal sunlight
Proves a worthy companion of contemplation.
Eudaimonia, she finds in her deep contemplation
Free of sorrow, empty and weary from her onslaught of rage,
She casts herself into the welcoming cracks of sunlight
And in Euphoria, she finds herself no longer bellowing,
The slow and steady pull of her chains toward Insanity
Break away and leave her where she stands.
In new light, she finds her strength and stands,
Embracing the drifting stream of wraithlike contemplation
Would send shivers and open wounds that might invite Insanity,
But turning around and gazing out into those waves might blind the Rage
And bring peaceful sighs to interrupt the senseless bellowing
Such that black clouds would give way to glorious sunlight.
To the death of Rage and the estrangement of Insanity,
The wistful bellowing banished in the silence of contemplation,
The Goddess stands with her back to the wind, tears dried by the warm sunlight.
