Stars and Swords

She sits, fated for stars and swords to cross.

In calm but frozen awe as blood tears from thorns lying upon her head.

“Stand,” sighs, the air snaking around her.

“Stand,” echoes, looming depths of dark patient clouds.

So she walks with the ushering weaves of grass beneath.

Past tangled allures of baneful roses that blind with brilliance.

To find her stride falter as darkness begins to weep.

Screaming along with wind, heard only by emptiness within, she staggers.

Eyes shut, her mind opens.

Soaring through voiceless storms merely to see a whisper, “RUN!”

Shrouded by nothing and all, she falls.

Patiently loving, fated for stars and swords to cross.