Priestess of Ate

do not let the world constantly change

breaking itself into pieces while the nightingale sings,,,

i myself am broken by the world

see only myself, not society.

1947 then 1562

times itself is uncertain

as blood floams and flutters through the veins

in oceans as cold as ice

distilled

frozen or chilled

to excess,

still time and space

let the waves not be shaken

like dogs

out of water,

sharp flows the knife to discourse upon human flesh

on dreads of moon flowers

stalking the dead to vigilant sleep.