Sweet Melancholy Wind
© Surazeus
2018 12 22
Sweet melancholy wind of winter light
that blows from secret region of my mind
bears my frail soul above the teeming world,
seeking to change despair to aching joy.
Pale Death, who comes from swirling mist of time
in body of young girl with long gold hair,
your silver eyes blaze pleasure through my soul,
inspiring my numb heart to wake from pain.
Your warm embrace of my frail skeleton
imbues my aching flesh with strange new life
so I may rise at blazing flash of dawn
to gather apples fallen on cold ground.
Mute Death, who waits for me beneath low cliff,
I bring you apples from old Tree of Life
so we may feast together in cold wind,
devouring sunlight with our kissing lips.
I build small shelter from cold gusting wind
and spark warm fire by clashing jagged rocks
so we may hold each other close and warm
when melancholy wind howls from black sky.
Sad Death, whose silver eyes rain bitter tears,
you tremble from strange vision of despair,
and cry with anguish in dark starless night,
while I embrace you to my throbbing heart.
Bright sun gleams gold on field of gleaming snow,
and gushing river sings clash of ice chunks,
so I race swift through trees to kill wild boar,
then roast it over flames for us to feast.
Cute Death, whose blazing eyes gaze up at me,
your joyful laughter charms my aching heart
as we convert cries of fear to sweet song,
and dance together by old Tree of Life.
We walk together through thick tangled trees
to gather nuts and mushrooms from wet grass
then feast together laughing by the cliff
that blazes warm with rays of evening light.
Pale Death, who holds my trembling hand with faith,
you walk beside me on cold river shore,
soft belly swelling ripe with growing child,
sparked by hot passion of our eager kiss.
Sweet melancholy wind of summer light
that blows from secret region of my mind
bears our frail souls above the teeming world
so we transform despair to aching joy.
Wild Death, who grips my shoulders with fierce hands,
you birth our wailing child of hungry hope
that suckles at your plump breast of sweet milk,
while you smile at me with joy for new life.
© Surazeus
2018 12 22
Sweet melancholy wind of winter light
that blows from secret region of my mind
bears my frail soul above the teeming world,
seeking to change despair to aching joy.
Pale Death, who comes from swirling mist of time
in body of young girl with long gold hair,
your silver eyes blaze pleasure through my soul,
inspiring my numb heart to wake from pain.
Your warm embrace of my frail skeleton
imbues my aching flesh with strange new life
so I may rise at blazing flash of dawn
to gather apples fallen on cold ground.
Mute Death, who waits for me beneath low cliff,
I bring you apples from old Tree of Life
so we may feast together in cold wind,
devouring sunlight with our kissing lips.
I build small shelter from cold gusting wind
and spark warm fire by clashing jagged rocks
so we may hold each other close and warm
when melancholy wind howls from black sky.
Sad Death, whose silver eyes rain bitter tears,
you tremble from strange vision of despair,
and cry with anguish in dark starless night,
while I embrace you to my throbbing heart.
Bright sun gleams gold on field of gleaming snow,
and gushing river sings clash of ice chunks,
so I race swift through trees to kill wild boar,
then roast it over flames for us to feast.
Cute Death, whose blazing eyes gaze up at me,
your joyful laughter charms my aching heart
as we convert cries of fear to sweet song,
and dance together by old Tree of Life.
We walk together through thick tangled trees
to gather nuts and mushrooms from wet grass
then feast together laughing by the cliff
that blazes warm with rays of evening light.
Pale Death, who holds my trembling hand with faith,
you walk beside me on cold river shore,
soft belly swelling ripe with growing child,
sparked by hot passion of our eager kiss.
Sweet melancholy wind of summer light
that blows from secret region of my mind
bears our frail souls above the teeming world
so we transform despair to aching joy.
Wild Death, who grips my shoulders with fierce hands,
you birth our wailing child of hungry hope
that suckles at your plump breast of sweet milk,
while you smile at me with joy for new life.
Bueutifully done.
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