by Sarah Whitaker
12/25/2007 / Poetry
Precious love, so wrapped in darkness,
What demon has shackled thee?
What foul chains now adorn thy skin?
What bushel hides thy light within?
Woe, my darling!
What demon hath denied you the sunrise?
What lust hath consumed thy soul?
What undercroft slumber has swallowed you whole?
Nay, My love!
Drink fully of My blood to sate thy hunger.
Let no stake strike at thy heart,
But at My side, My brow, My wrists and feet.
Let their hate of thee become one with Me.
I will rest in thy crypt for days of three,
So that eternity shall belong to thee,
The eternity that is thee and Me.
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