A Voice

A voice on a whispering wind; a name spoken
Dirge’s of a past wrong unfold
Invisible melody serenading righteous indignation
The forge has birthed many edges unto the pseudonym

Petals of a past conspiracy’s rose wilt
Upon the delicately frayed edge of a marble hand
A kiss so gentle lie there burned upon salt wound lips
Red tears fall stained on the white witness

Unspoken but not forgotten; smile masquerading as levity
Razor sharp and fine honed dormant in fragility
Cold serendipitous dark, come make this home
A rattling serpent eager to gift its venom

Payment on death. a crown of thorns waits not for thee
Odin secrets his vargr into this empty vessel
A declaration ravenous in its exercises
In dominion it howls unrepentant and blood slaked compensations…