She enters as gently as a shadow upon the breath of God. But her undertow is harsh like an indignant empurpled hound.
To the world she exhibits her sovereign diadem as soft, ashen clouds post storm. But alone with her lovers she is a ghoul - haunted turret waiting to cumber their souls with her pettish tears.
She will never have to wrestle her future demons. For so many with the faith of northern brothers will from ebon ramparts, fight with blue and black thunder. She forever slumbers in her mansion of deception as those that love her lay dying in a shack.
- Johnny V.
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