Work Text:
A flow, in yellow ichor, golden lies,
The crown, it’s king, the gentle beacon light.
In time, opposed by wings and vulture eyes,
Whose enemy’s grin holds a thousand nights.
Two lives entangled by eternal’s game,
These teeth and hands know rot of flesh and blood,
Whose cravings run, the thrill, their chase remains,
Still palms surrender to this realm, beloved.
The kingdom skies welcome the sun in day,
Her gown adorned by their own purple hands,
Now waves goodnight to their opposed array,
Where praying whispers shine in green lit lands.
Far, a game goes on, unknown to the world,
A King, an Angel fallen, undisturbed.