Raging storm on winter day,
Trees are going out away
Into world with no excuse.
Sort of magic I will use
To purloin your souls unbound,
To caress your wishes' round.
This grim altar in the sea
With a falchion made by me,
With a spell I used to care
To rejoin this inner pain.
Let your song be sure to fade
And your dream tonight go wade
Over my breath in the land
Of a penetrating sand
Of the snow and thunderstorm
And divinity's on dawn.
No excuse to your refuse,
A harbinger knows who'll lose.
Thunder, lightning, reckoning!
March for war with them within!
Until the world s end...
© Copyright: Оксана Малефисента Тихомирова, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112050707371
Свидетельство о публикации №112050707371
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