The Rising

The room was dim,

And I, the great promising

Heiress bowed to him,

His strong legs never missing

From my sight and old battle fields,

Dressed in black and golden shields,

And behind them, he was, over most

Else a non-existent form, a ghost.

His hands slowly reached,

To my streaming eyes and my chin,

For so long to this effigy I had preached

On my knees, till the cold ground tore off my skin,

And so he lifted my chin off the ground,

His hands were ice cold, I have found,

And my eyes scanned his face,

Of silver, steel and endless space.

His eyes coal black and his lips sealed

Shut by death,

Such grave miserable death,

To which his soul must yield.

And I, an heiress of a great world,

Am threatened by the same sword,

But no more, my soul said,

No more holding your legs of stone,

Steady like a statue of a hero, dead,

Buried in me, till I find a grave of my own.

So I stood up, hands free to cherish,

The highlands of my own kingdom

To be, where you, O Prince, will parish

For the sake of my own freedom,

For the sake of my own beauty,

Haven’t you said, it’s always been your duty

To bow to me, so how am I the one

Bowing and shielding my eyes from your sun?

And still you claim you want me,

That when you look, it’s me you see,

So tell me, my beloved Prince,

About what you truly see

When you close your eyes and ever since

You did, have you even once dreamt of me?

Or have the lust for the virgins’ blood

Blind your soul and in the flood

Of your overwhelming appetence for

Their moans, you’ve lost the way to my door?

I will not apologize for my attitude, my lord,

No more will I be a slave to your soul,

By sin and dust, by sinew and cord,

No more, heart and head and silent call

To gold and black covers of a ghost,

I will not apologize for being lost.

Because I am forever found,

Sadly for you, my place is not the ground,

And though with every call in my body,

I showed you how I love you,

With my all that’s in me, be it calm or bloody,

I’ll also show you how I hate you

To the core with all what’s burned and burning,

I hate you with the passion of loving

And with the madness of every single thought

In my endless realm you’ve once sought.

But there's one thing you didn't account for,

When you lead me in and shut the last door,

That I am the key to my own

Existence, it’s in my hand alone

To bow and break or to stand

And turn your heart into sand

Swiftly slipping from my hand to the wind,

That carries it far to the world’s end,

For I am the heiress,

The queen in the making,

The cruel mistress,

And the witch in the waking,

I am the virgin’s blood spilled

At your door, it was my will for you,

And the heart that you’ve once killed

To escape all what’s old, all what’s true,

It was your sacrifice made unwillingly,

Truly for me, but for you seemingly.

So in this kingdom, take your right place,

Bring your knees to the ground,

Let the cold silver of your face,

Shine upon a hell profound,

And recognize your fate that’s grim,

Under my heels and twisted waist

In veils of scarlet and dim light,

At the shores of royal lips you’ll never taste

At hearts in hands and surging waves

All breaking into rotten graves,

Never to be seen again, just like you,

Bow, O prisoner Prince, to the queen anew.