TheWildRose

† Out of the ashes you made of her she will rise once more wingless and stronger when she falls. Out of the tears you ripped away, a purified fluid to foment the untamed Thirst. † A web was woven. With elegance far from spidery; that web has now become a Rosary, for her to crumble and consume when the Plague turns a deeper shade of Scarlet. † You have painted upon her canvas, the brush mastery left to your laws and judgement, but the colours will be obfuscated so that you may never recognize your work again. She chose a grave: the one you sculpted with hands,and years.. and now she's offering all her

"Show me the angels.."  he prayed. "They are no more.",she whispered. "All angels are sleeping underground." ..and she closed her eyes,beholding a memory of stone melting in the wind

..as seen from a Place closer to the sky, everything invisible the all-covering Blue alters into fire as the faint candle reveals the host of Archangels ,hiding behind the mouldy white arc still        on that ground in pieces ..what the oracle thought .slowly walking towards that swinging hand never blinking,eyes wide open.. staring at the lifeless skin, only lightning could show for a second for an instant of artificial day ..without equal A bloodless hand,still moving ready to reach out and choke her.