My Dying Bride

Under the darkened, Ancient oak
Gentle in the nights breeze
I stop and stare, rest a while
With hands upon my knees
Through jaded leaves, bush and scrub
I spy my journeys end
Black it looms, silent gloom
The castle called Avend
On I trot, past forest eyes
Past horrors of the night
Through the dark, I see a sign
A gentle glowing light
Upon reaching the castle I ascend the ivy
Towards the golden window
My heart pounds my breath is rushed
As I fight both brick and branch
The ledge is mine and over I sweep
Silent like the falling snow
Quiet, I slip across the polished floor
Tonight, I will dine with chance
The Blue Lotus, a legend, I thought a myth
Old poems and stories gone
A beauty of unimaginable lust
Both men's hearts, and Gods, were won
Skin like milk, an angels face
Thay say her smile could kill
Her hair the blackest of all black
Stories I thought Though, still