Gone, she is.
The sweet light of Springtime.
The bright joy of Demeter's divine heart.
Gone she is.
Who men fear to name.
And the shades of death serve down below.
Gone, is she.
To the world of her husband, who rules over death.
And brandished the wealth of the Earth.
Gone, is she.
And soon we will all know it.
As a mother's lonely heart turns cold, and with it the world itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment