The Skies Above

---

No more are my once sweet dreams halcyon,

For thy fair northern storm them now doth haunt-

With azure lightning jagged and darkest dawn,

I baptize (nay, drown) myself in Eros’ font.

---

For far too long I’ve wistfully gazed on high,

Holding close my squalid heart of glass,

Wishing I had graceful wings to fly,

This purple storm I fear - it shall not pass.

---

The Nordic blade, cuts crimson deep this Celt,

Drawing fiery blood from amative soul,

And scorned, ashamed this wound he sharply felt,

Hid oft behind disinterest’s artful dole.

---

Yet ne’r will I stray from thy blinding love,

Leave this insensate life for the skies above.

---