Earths true children come out to play in the meadows and fields where still live the fey. A head full of fire and eyes full of grace, she bows to the gods and lives in today. It is not the wicked or the wretched who chase her, nor the evil that she would slay, for in her heart lies the cures for all the wounds today. And she would heal you, like a mother, but for our foolish choices and selfish pandering, her ire is raised. And some may love her, this child of earth, as all would do some day, but she has the heart of a warrior, with a sword made out of sweetest faith. And her flaming crown and graceful eyes lay waste to those who earth, betray
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Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
