Friday, November 11, 2011

My Lady Calls Me

My Lady Calls Me

Death is calling me;
Her sweet voice I cannot ignore.
She beckons me with one slender, pale finger
Adorned with The Moonstone ring.

She carries the knife
-with which to slice away my useless, broken body.
She holds the silver spoon
-with which to dig out my pure, white soul.
She stands upon the scales,
-with which She uses to test my worth.

Will I pass the test?
Will I be granted entrance into Her Home?

Death is calling me; She shall be kept waiting no more.

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