Beyond the reach of
dragon-flight, maids of Odin
in Autumn mists cry
for fair Honah-Lee
slipped from sight, to vaults only
Valkyries dare fly.
Passing beyond time
and meaning, no longer tied
with shackles, earthbound–
soaring realms golden
and gleaming, far away from
the dark underground.
Today at dVerse we’re exploring the underground.
‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’ – Oscar Wilde
From lofty heights descended,
an angel, fallen low.
Crystal dreams, dark testament,
a black eagle in white snow.
Once she raced before the wind,
but grew her wings too soon.
The dragon she chased, has turned to hunt
beneath a harvest moon.
The Beast stole joy and crawled away
over cracked and bleeding plains.
A white horse from stables bolted;
left dried up, broken veins.
Her palace of air the white boy stole –
to all four corners blown.
In a back alley gutter, she stares at the stars,
whispers there’s no place like home.
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