Wounded Soulmate:
Against these thorns
Press on
O Nightingales,
These roses still need
their red.
To these graves
Hold on
Dear Mothers,
These swords still need
their guilt.
Towards these stones
March on
Ye Soldiers,
These ruins still need
their pride.
From these dreams
Move on
My Sailors,
These oceans still need
their depth.
Through these fires
Come on
Sweet Angels,
Our wounds still need
their healing.
Inspired by Oscar Wilde's The Nightingale and the Rose
"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."
