From the tomb of life this passion arises,
Her love driven by the hooves of hate.
She dances to the drums of time,
Fast rides the horse of Fate.
Spurred by a transcending passion,
She seeks the souls who stealthily ran.
In the shadows of time she will wait,
Drawing the hearts of man.
For even the dead may one day arise,
Tainted by the deeds of late.
For quick is the flame of life,
And fast rides the horse of Fate.
And that’s how I spend my rainy, summer days. With a long cloak, a black horse and a world of imagination. (And a good bit of blueberry crisp, just to polish off last week’s pickings).