Set the Night Singing #2.31
Updated: Oct 14
Ventured, I, into the bleak –
self-doubt in sanguine, roiling.
And found I there what most I feared –
frustration, rank and coiling.
Just out of reach – Ambrosia wings,
the trails be twisting, serpent things.
I am – as beasts the darkness brings –
reduced to tears, blood boiling.
My arms drawn down from o'er my eyes,
by thorny hands – a Bleakland beast!
But – through night, with me, they grieved -
I find my tears have ceased.