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It is the icy fountain that runs through the blood of man. Electric fences go up to hide the detrimental winds from a sauntered heart. Misty eyes weep for the loss of a fallen soldier who drank from the waters of the sun. Driven shadows follow me around in the night to color the shades of my burning spirit. Toppling over is the frigid bridge that shouts at the faulty beams that can no longer hold up the strain of desire. Fallen into the boiling pot, is the temptress who ignites passionate waves in the souls of the jaded beast.

The Mistress of the Snow offers her icy breaths to the angry sun who trampled down the grapes of wrath and gives off the sudden bursts of energy. Trivial pursuits of languid myhrr is the brigade of the trumpet when it sounds for the dead, shouting, "I am the merchant who follows the heavenly bliss of His holistic jamboree. I will not taunt your children of the damned, my Lord. For I wish to enable them to foster throughout their hellish plights. If only they will look to your Divine Spirit for their healing to begin. I no longer wish to go into siege with the hellish beast that savors man's soul, and thirsts for seduction from the vampiress. For you are the one and only direction for the lost to follow into the golden rays of your protective light."

Feverish winds bleed into my shivering soul, and paste together lofty visions that dance throughout my laughing mind. Maple leaves fall on top of my jaunted body and get stepped on by the languid soldiers who march into the Gates of Heaven to honor the Lord throughout their afterlife. For the hungry shall be fed. The needy shall have. The powerful shall be denied of the glory that comes through singing praises to the One and only True Light. Drink in the sun and let its rays replenish your soul with pure energy. I will not devour your song of salty wounds. For I shall cradle your corpse that I cling to with my weeping rain.

Learn more about this author, Joanna Maharis.
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