}~Prologue~{
Dost not the wind whip through the branches in a most terrible fervor, on this day of gray?
Sparse trees inhabit the open space, glittering with snow, loveliness; everything reminds me of her.
This dreamscape, this world apart from my own, our own
Frightens away the ghosts hidden in my memory
Naught to bleeding away, gone awry,
The fateful thirteenth hour such a short millenium ago.
Cascades of ebony tremble o'er each muscle fiber existent in my cursed being,
Emerald diamonds spark within my blood
Forcing my heart to constrict, and my eyes to tear
With the bluest of salt water-droplets-
Stinging this most deceptive of faces
Which had eternally cursed me with troubles.
The ivory skin has pulled taut o'er my bloody flesh,
Singeing the person but not the man
In my grave, I shall sing her praises
But not before I kiss her lips
Formed from the purest of rose-petals,
Dripping with the sweetest of honeys.
Ah, but if I could only remember
The times when I dreamt of her countenance
Day upon night, night upon day
When the skies had turned to amber-gold
And the stars were filled with weeping;
Their echoes reverberated across time and space- the end of their tears I could not trace.
No crystal sphere could e'er replace
The livid light of her gentle face.
My sweetest Sarah rests upon
The dead of night, the dusk and dawn
No longer shall I walk alone
Once I meet her gaze upon my throne.
Beauty defined in the most simple of women
Yet, the most defiant and resolved.
I could not imagine her otherwise,
Though my blood matches her pulse
In our tempests of few and far between,
But once they come, oh, how her tears gleam.
I am cold, my blood wears thin
Beneath this most useless of skins.
But, ah, I see her far ahead-
My lady faire, garbed in deep red.
How much longer must I walk
Until there is no room to talk?
Until our bones mesh together like velvet,
Crushed into the ground like sand
The hourglass shall never turn,
And no clock shall ever chime again
For whence she comes, for whence she came,
The time that's there doth ruin my game.
Her body filled with warmth, her blood
Could quench my thirst forevermore.
The eyes that peer into my soul
Undo me past the point of no repentance, no regret
-Her soft skin, like milk poured o'er this purest snow
Could hereafter fill my senses with weeping.
How does such beauty find its way to a man,
Granted I be no man at all?
How could the fates discover such spirit
In the ways in which I most wish to fall?
How could she even dare to see
This most horrid side of me?
-Here she comes, treading lightly
Down the path illumined brightly
By the warmest of seasoned suns
-She knows it to be me; she runs.
My Sarah, love, your gentle truth
Could bring me fevers from my youth.
She pauses from six feet apart
(Can she not see my bleeding heart?)
Cheeks flushed soft, most appealing
And her breath comes hard but lovely.
Eyes glistening with sheer life
And in my anguish, I moan inside.
Into my arms she makes her way,
I know not why or how
But she loves me, and I suppose
I can be selfish now.
Our lips collide into the stream
Of flowing beauty evergreen
-And, until the day I die,
Nevermore will I dare to sigh
Unless it be in the throes of "yes"
Or from sweet contentedness
From her heart intertwined with mine
In the most sacred, blessed sense.
My Sarah love, my Queen, my Pet,
You have been most Heaven-sent.
The drifts of snow may flutter past,
But we feel no chill
For affection warms the heart most dear;
And here we stand, strong in mind and will.
~This be the day firstborn
Of the account of Winterthorn~
