Good morning, High One, the moon is bright

The Queen is right-side up tonight

…

Good morning, High One, the sun is dead

I’ve hungered enough, I’ll die for bread

….

…

I fear her, Wise One: The Lady of the Shears

Dreaded Atropos, the raven without a feather

I wear no cloth entwined with threads of death

Only a belt with three bright gems

Sown it with roses, and burned the stems

Safe from blade, free to Ankou’s breath

Blinking between the drops of rainy weather

I tire of running, Wise One; I tire of tears

Look pass the sky in this moment, Dark One

Our banners are whipping in the wind

Dancing before an empty stage

Behind the gates of Tartarus

Shrieking to the breath of Cerberus

While Azrael turns a scrawl-filled page

Writing, erasing, the names of our kin

Where is your name on the lines, Dark One?

No lines, Little One, my name is not sand

It’s written on the back of Azrael’s hand

**

Mmm, yes, I’ve tried to write again. I know the rhythm is rough, so I’ll probably come back to revise it one day. I know I’m mixing myths here, so don’t bother mentioning it. My inspiration for this one came from – obviously – mythology, but also from the sound of the flags above my school practically ripping in the strong wind. I wanted to be a bit more abstract in this one, so if it worked, great.  Feel free to give suggestions – I know I need them.