BlackEagle01

Be silent, my sweet the dawn is still a wisp in a dream I might once have had under starry but stormy skies where the dry chill and freezing ground meet to form a thousand a million perfect crystals, intertwining. Be still, my sorrow fluttering wings beat the wisp spirals courageously striking forth to become more than a dream to be real running along skin like a tingle and the dry chill is bone deep crystals like needles weaving, winding, seething, gnawing storm is brewing, stars are scattering light is leaving. Be glad, my love the glow has arisen extinguishing night the wisp vanishes ghostly an apparition of fals

A myth, a legend, fantastical tale passed on from parent to child. Where there once was an aura of grandeur there now lies a narrative defiled. All powerful Gods and Demons fighting battles of such immense scale. A myth is something ethereal, from Medusa to the Holy Grail. Yet with the inevitable progression of language from guise to guise, myth's meaning has become distorted its connotations changing impact and size. No longer does one in their minds eye conjure images of Aphrodite or Zeus. Myths now are more commonly urban and their integrity is far more loose. Myths in the twenty-first century are nothing like tales of old

A crowd sat waiting, wondering, watching, hoping, longing, lusting to hear the famous melodies, the Orchestra of Love is playing, tickets sold out months ago, a packed auditorium, a thousand eager faces look on. Instruments gleam, almost radiate light, their surfaces polished to perfection, trumpets, trombones, saxophones, each held aloft, ready to cut loose. The Great Hall is filled with the overwhelming sound of silent anticipation, the conductor raises his hands, the gleaming metal is raised to lips, and violins are raised to chins, the first symphony of desire is about to begin. I have the notes drawn upon the pages of

Pain that came with touching you can still be felt today, I flinch each time your image passes through my head down to the places that we always liked to go, now filled with ghosts, the faceless memories contained in every single inch by inch I passed your flesh beneath my unnerved hands, how I'd longed to do this, playing in my fantasies for far too long hair slightly curled around your temptress Siren face, too tempting for a man of weak resolve; My mind had melted long ago and you were in control myself, I must, I must, this isn't right, but even as I said it I gave in, Your scent an aphrodisiac and your lips enticed m

The wild beast that tore and scratched, that plotted, planned, devised; the beast that once had the coldest touch and cunning, silent eyes; The animal whom all it touched turned to hatred and deceit, who couldn't pick between the two, both just pieces of meat. Couldn't pick so took the lot ignoring all the cries - turned its back on all who cared and fed them endless lies. Devoured 'til he had his fill but couldn't just stop there, try to take on competition, not willing to ever share. Losing was not an option, but evil never wins. No way the Lord has mercy on the one who carries all those sins. One knockout punch was all