(no subject)

[arachne8x]

Change

In his chariot he carried her,
Plunging deep into the ground,
His morbid realm waiting there.

In each dreary corner:
Filtered through gray glass
She saw hollow things

Left behind like husks
Where once live things grew
Like sloughed snakeskin.

By a garden with death and decay
Hanging from a fragile dead branch
A ruby pomegranate glowed in the silence

Radiant as a beacon, small
But glorious still, its skin
Taught,its pallor vibrant,

Fragrant, a lingering sweetness.
Below the darkness it beckoned.
Its shining figure illuminated

By a glow of life
She wondered to herself
"Would its taste too

Match the mask of life it wears.
Sweet and tart, it may be
A thread of life forgotten."

And though the rest reviled her
She desired to know its nature
Ducking under the gnarled brambles

She touched its smooth garment:
Silk of a ladies evening dress
Her tongue knew it

Tart and sweet in the garden of death
Deliciously tangible as if
It were even then in her mouth.

He grinned as he saw her
Drawn by its vitality
Decide to know for herself

Shyly she broke open its skin
Trembling she brought a seed
To her lips, vivace

It called, its life
A certainty, and she
Sentenced by her fascination

For the life hidden
In the underworld
Wanders tirelessly from life

To death finding both in each
And bringing both to each..