music

tell a different story now

of harmonies from days gone by

fashioned with an ideal of communication

about beauty and skill

but above all the love of creation

when after the plague's nightmare was born

from the wickedness of wretched being

something new again walks softly over old walls

turned into garden gates

and the gentleness of self expression

changes the very air

to close your eyes open your heart

feel the heavy silk

and the warm weight of light inside

the heart turns a spindle of memory

golden thread extending

may we hold eachother now in good esteem

the dead are lain to rest

naught but spectre of suffering

blowing in the storm

shattering on the sharp rocks of the shore

may we stay in the garden this time

smiling to ourselves

content in our moments

having learned solace by the

caress of death and kiss of the Goddess