LADY OF THE HALLOWS

A noble horse parts the iron storm clouds

his snow wings nurse skies rent by tears

He bears a maid born in pure rays

A holy race bows to Luce their bride.

The regal steed lands; earth brims green hope

his gilt horn flares; sin roars and spits.

New glory robes hearts; they soar past woods

and drift in peace with Luce well blest.

A MERMAID'S GIFT

I stroll by shores in mists of morn

The harp lulls air; milk tides flare gilt.

A sea maid sighs; her fish tail glints

she signs my eyes; her jade ring heats

and wakes the tale of grace long slain.

“O lady,” I weep, “cast a red lock

to melt dark arts and blast the crone!”

Words bathe my soul; her lips are mute

“I seal your heart, so foil this doom!”