Sitting in Michael's Lap
~resplendent Love! ~
Aloft on brightly burning wings
to set the sky aflame;
Triumphant her cry,
and with hypnotic note through raptured heights resounds,
To allure, to compel,
~to demand ~
Ashes spreading in her wake, the swept remains
of heart's kindling,
Burnt offerings upon the granite shrine.
And there lingers in her shade
Carrion crows rejoicing in raucous cries
As they feast with bloodied beaks upon her slain.
Plucking at hollowed eyes
Perhaps these once burned with life, with hope, with joy,
but now only shine to mirror her glory, knowing
That only eyes may hold her.
Unmake the soul,
Proffer no prize for her taking, and watch
with heart unmoved as she sounds her siren song,
That to smolder sighing in her fiery grasp is still
To burn !
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange...
--William Shakespeare, from The Tempest
[This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 02-05-2000).]