Purity Chapel

Oh rosemary-
Night's favored flower.
Where the weeping moon
sprinkles its lonely droplets upon your leaves.
...

Wretched, wasted souls who have succumbed
to the Box of Unoriginality.
See to it that your minds are forever numbed
to this World's abandoned beauty.
...

Weak and frail the writer sits,
dwelling on the verge of fits.
Rotting, her mentality slips.
Into futility, she trips.
...

The clock ticks away-
Every second a loss.
It must prepare, say
For the coming hour.
...

Oh dearest, we both conspire-
I have felt our words like fire,
And, like a hot flame, they shall relax
Our love to still and melt- to wax!
...

We amounted the seas, my Captain and I
With the winds a delicate temper.
They caressed my flushed cheeks- a kindred spirit,
But the Captain I could neither see nor hinder-
...

If I could take flight in my burrow
And be free.

If I could see the smiling Day
...

I encountered a strange sight
While covered in the warm blanket of Summer.
I beheld a progressing fight
Of a man between wake and slumber.
...

Swaying beneath the rocks
A hollow grove-
A darkness that mocks.
Those suffering souls strove
...

Look at the lone book,
its delicate threads fading in haste.
It is like a newborn babe,
fragile to Life and her imminent waste.
...