(S)He Was Crowned By His Illness~ 

While cloaked in slumberous youth one quiescent day,

Like heat from the pavement rising high,

A vision of love was seen through rose colored glass 

She thought, “With this rapture can I finally fly.”

Traveling far to distant place,

A castle in the sun-baked sky,

So began her phlegmatic fall from Grace;

Unbeknownst was Kushiel’s Dart in her eye.

The Rigid One of God – dark angel from Hinterland,

Did lay his mark upon her innocent stance;

She, being woefully ignorant of his brand,

Heeded the puppet call to dance.

Dance she did with naive glee;

Oblivious to rising dejection,

“For I can fix even he,

And make our life a sweet confection.”

One bleak day did she awaken,

To a castle cold, dead, bone dry;

Upon her head was his crown,

An illness subtle as a susurrus sigh.

As she tore his diadem from her brow

To repudiate the half-dazed dream,

“How could I have been so blind!”

Echoed in a silent scream.

Kushiel answered in sotto voce,

A soft, spellbinding rumble in her ear;

“You must give up your lovely lash,

before you can be free from here.”

Discernment dawned in her eyes,

Seduced she’d been by self-laid scourge

Playing at pathetic penitence

While chanting her childish dirge.

Guiding her through task and turmoil,

Arm cocked with fiery whip;

Stood the angel Kushiel,

Ready to strike with flaming tip.

Stone by stone the chore began,

With torn nails and bloodied hands;

Labored breath, don’t spare the rod…

A torment worthy of the Gods.