Malevolent Light

Residing on earth, but the roots are in the sky. Below a weeping moon and glinting pinheads fixating the night, her torn robe caresses the grass, plunging into the murk on a pathway lit by thousand suns.

She hums in tears, the winds shy out to dry them, or steal them from her cheeks. She has never known pain, her loneliness leant only to the ravens, before the acquaintance of his.

He knew how to hurt her well, she couldn't resist the ravishing light and she let go of the cawing ravens for fictitious love. That light, the source of all suffering as its memory lingers. She, the resident of the black, has never felt greater evil than that malevolent light.

Deeper into the woods, aspiring darkness, wishing sempiternal consciousness in a grave, sheltering away from that facade of joy, the luminous awe. The night wrapped her in and she was never seen again, but the moon that witnessed her sorrow, sworn to dim before him, the night pledged darkness to mist around him, and the midnights he never bothered, are only prevailed by early sleep.

The small fissure of light he caused in her dim aura, caused him collapse that repeats, everyday.

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