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Für meine Engel, von ihrem Wächter
In the cold, barren night,
Two souls are seen,
Entering the temple
Of a half-forgotten god.
Walking silently, slowly,
Through the vast chamber of sanctuary,
Open, yet strangely anechoic,
All is lost but a few lights,
Vanishing in the clouds of Her despair.
A stunning yin and yang,
They fail to receive a matching visage.
The angel stands awestruck in holy reverence;
No words exist for her description
Of the shining beacon of her heart,
Resonating within this sacred hall.
The one who clips her wings,
Disgusting and bitter,
Thinks only of the god of Logic,
The Goddess Politika,
And his muse, Reason.
Abstraction is lost
To his own blindness.
As their eyes depart from one another--
Hers, looking ever upward
To the greater good of the world,
as she closes her stance from him,
Arms folded in,
The iron crossbeam to her heart;
His, searching ever inward,
Turning from the world around him,
Forgetting all but his own intent--
Pain unfolds inside her soul,
And the void overtakes his spirit.
Suddenly, Sorrow's sweet voice
Screams from within the angel
As she falls, softly, in the darkness.
Blood tears fall from her eyes,
Streams of crimson trailing down her face,
Cleansing and anointing the sacred ground.
Kneeling before the unseen altar,
Her spirit cries into the night
To the God that he forgot--
The One that will soon forget him.
The blind oppressor continues his pace through the hall,
Without falter, nor shortened step,
As new wounds appear
Upon the angel's hands and feet--
Her stigmata for his iniquity,
Her pain for his transgressions--
Her tortured soul's wailing, manifesting
Her eternal sacrifice for his forgiveness.
As the slavemaster completes his approach on the exit,
A vast quaking commences;
The heavens themselves rumble with righteous fury.
His gnarled hand reaches for the door,
Yet will never know its touch.
In tongues now all but forgotten—-
The primal language of the soul—-
The guardian makes his presence known.
All of existence pauses,
Waiting for the words of God’s messenger.
You shall not pass from this place!
Your kind has held sway far too long,
And I’ll not let you continue this desecration
Of existence, itself.
She will NOT fall to your ilk,
Her soul shall never again
Succumb to your taint.
Blinding light floods the sanctuary,
Emanating from within the angel,
Finally wresting the tyrant’s gaze.
He turns to see two—-
His forgotten angel
And her now tangible watcher—-
Before time freezes around him,
Locking his now monstrous form in eternity.
The guardian kneels before the girl,
Taking her hand,
As they forget the world for a moment.
Come with me now, Engel—-
I’ll cleanse your wounds,
And mend your soul—-
He has no pull on you, now.
Her lesions fade
As a new smile arrives on her soft face.
The pale flare turns to quiet hues
As peace returns to her spirit.
Rising from the hallowed ground,
The two walk, hand in hand,
Toward the frozen husk
Of the fiend.
The guardian gives his final address
As the girl smiles, meekly:
She no longer belongs to you, demon--
Never again will she fall under your spell.
No more will she sacrifice for your sins.
Now all you will know is nothingness,
Absence from existence,
Reaped from your own voluntary blindness.
You have turned from those who loved you,
Chastised those who prayed for you;
Rebuked the One who created you.
You are craven,
You are lost,
You are forgotten—-
You are denied.
The two turn—-
The guardian and his angel—-
Emerging from the frozen temple
To face a new dawn,
'He who knows others is learned. He who knows himself is wise.'
'Tomorrow will take us away,
Far from home--
No one will ever know our names,
But the bards' songs will remain.
Tomorrow, all will be known,
And You're not alone,
So don't be afraid
In the dark and cold
'Cause the bards' songs will remain.
They all will remain
In my thoughts and in my dreams
They're always in my mind....
Come close Your eyes;
You can see them, too.'
The Bard's Song: Into the Forest