Her voice was like the Angel's melody
That could heal the heart's malady.
How jealous were the seraphims
While concealing their darkness through their whims.
A peach that promised eternity
Was sent in her chamber with utmost secrecy.
Delighted for such a gift of immortality,
She ate the Seed that rooted her endless melancholy.
Unable to sing, she watched the dawning of the day
And cursed all the Angels with words she couldn't say...
Comments
I'm minded of Monkey stealing the peaches of immortality.
Was thinking of 'borrowing' a few myself, but should one not eat the seeds? They root you in melancholy?
I hate gods and spirits, they're a nasty, spiteful bunch,
but this is a very fine poem.
If allegorical,
has someone saddened you beyond even profanity?
My dear, I hope not.
Say a rude word just to put my mind at rest, please.