13 May 2012
I see her standing at her window
Burning in her loneliness,
Consumed by her own flame,
A furnace bent on self-destruction,
As if ageless
But now riddled with lines,
And oft I wonder
Why does she still stand there
Surveying a world gone by?
Haunted by her own ghosts
Smouldering by night in hellish glow
Or ashen by day,
A bright young maiden
Golden, fresh, licking at the crumbling walls,
Or old spinster,
Crippled, worn, burning out
Torn, by a hateful world,
By man's evil that she let in.
Ever robed in white,
The Lone Mistress.
The ever-changing phoenix.
Age-old and watching
As this spiteful orb spins on,
Out of our control.
The Lone Mistress • Opuss № I