Brightness gives flight to vision.
She is a scattering of apple blossoms in May,
April at her muddied feet, humbling the earth like her servant.
She will bear the sun to it's zenith then dance in it's late day shadow,
seeking the love that opposes her heart's song.
He is sickle sharp teeth in the dark,
the infinence of winter and boundless white of the snow field.
He holds eternity and is emptied by it, heartbroken
by the ageless grief of strangers.
Nothing to show for his power
but pockets full of empty shotgun shells
and blood money.
She must bring life. She must foster it's growth,
even in the most barren of eyes,
the deadened stare of infinity.
She is not his captive,
he is her mission,
an endless task that must be renewed at the turning of each season.
A dark mantle she will gladly bear into the blackness of his night kingdom.
