In The Dreaming

If I came to you through the curtain of night

Clothed in sacrificial white

And laid me down on the altar stone

Offered up my flesh and bone

Would you mold me with a sculptor’s hand

Spill my blood on thirsty sand

Take for granted my willing heart

Tear my flimsy walls apart?

 

Would you soothe the pain with gentle words

Clip my wings like a captured bird

Attempt hold in a master’s fist

A soul that flies through poetic mist?

What an offering this writer makes

Such games we play with higher stakes

Starlight glows in this empty place

Too dark to read your hidden face

Like pages lost on the study floor

All unwritten, nevermore

 

 

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