Sanguis ex Cruore
Life Blood from Slaughter | Part I of Venae Fractae Fati
A life taken, a life given.
Blood spilled.
A seed sprouted.
Echoes—silent, yet heard.
This is the first in a trilogy, seen through generational eyes.
A tale of life given in every sense.
Beauty born of loss.
A life lived in the name of love, suspended before eyes both loving and hating.
Tears of hope, love, and grief.
Roars of satisfaction and triumph.
The Spear of Destiny rips into the heart—
flesh clings to the cold steel.
I am the blood dripping to the soil below.
Fleeing the body newly devoid.
Dry, cracked earth—
moistened by spilling evil.
Mending wounds of neglect.
Hate and fear welcomed.
Drops spread, dissipating.
Decay.
Roots sink their teeth.
Death digesting into life.
Nourishment.
New love feeds from what was.
Springing forth, thorns protecting.
Generation benefits from ancestors’ love.
Lesson past learned, results freely gained.
Sprouts—pure, untainted—need not know how or why.
Blossoms rise where I once fell.
A trade well made—my life given.
Love, life, wisdom, pass down.
Blood for blood, and love for life.
Thank you for reading Sanguis ex Cruore.
If it speaks to you, let me know what you felt.
The next chapter—Hereditas: Onus et Donum—is coming soon.
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Good Fortune to You
About the Creator
Tales from a Madman
.. the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the Prince's indefinite decorum.
The Masque of the Red Death
Edgar Allan Poe
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Comments (1)
Sadly, it reminds me (although I do not need reminding) of my husbands suicide. Yet with the next breath I recall the joy and innocent love my children had for life, and how they shared with me, and how I fought to keep it so. Thank you from a little old lady too soon becoming a literal thorn.