The blood drips linger
afraid to leave the bastion of grace
that sustained them
fibres stretched and pulled
to the brink of profanity
sweat refused
clinging until raised as vapors to the sky
a piercing shriek of a quartz tip entered
somehow sliently
parting flesh from flesh
meat from bone and bitter liquid poured forth
searing a river of flesh devouring agony
a slight reprieve offered nothing but
the biting cold of sullied mead
poured mercilessly upon the lips of truth
to add irrevent pain upon excruciating reverence
the clouds gathered
the ground swelled up and shook
the cracks of the whip deafened
by the thunderous
proclamation
thus it was done
and hope sat in stunned silence
the endless wait began
as the blood drips lingered afraid to touch the sand