• It is a night of death, a song of sorrow,
    wolves vent their pain. The eternal one
    rises.

    Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds her pale form,
    a timeless fear.

    Her raven hair cascades over
    pale shoulders, and her
    full blood red lips part slightly, to taste the
    darkness streaming from the
    pale flesh beneath
    her.

    Now a night of new awareness,
    I weep.