The Black Madonna
The gifts of heaven can be hard and cruel, watching the ebony sea come, pushing and pulling too and fro.
Distant fires can be seen and the repetitious chants of hunger repeat, repeat.
The black silk sky flows like ink in heaven and in hell. I saw her dance in her porcelain skin clothed in a midnight shroud.
Fear, hatred, innocence, anxiety filled her bossom like a masquerade of tarnished stone. Her supple lips betrayed the haunting in her eyes, as she danced to the song of loneliness and of one.
Raven BLACK
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 