Sitting There

Upon this dark hour sits a maid in cold shower,
Tripple blind to the forces behind man’s power,
While life fades out like an aging tower,
Leaving behind a blooming flower.

The night flies sing, as the star light blinks,
And we hear the sound of battering wings,
The midnight guardian of the nightly kings,
Soaring above the minor beings.

The shadow creeps and extends its form,
Creating a cover to hide earth’s worms,
Chasing light back to its home,
Biding us to think that we are alone.

Upon my wet and lustrous hair,
Lies a crown of great despair,
Breeding pain without a care,
For now I know we’re lost and in need of repair.

But though you reign, you so dark and rare,
You will soon become what’s bright and fair,
Then you’ll see you are half of a pair,
And know you were created to bring in no fear.

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