Slender beams of moonlight enter
this darkened hall as I kneel,
always a slave, always a slave,
frozen here,
waiting.

Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my darkened soul.

Blood on a lover's face.

I raise my head, now crying out for
this oblivious fate.