LOVE DEATH DEPRIVED

art thou in meander
beloved, beneath the silver moon
boon to Hecate
nay, slave  
in darkness dine
and I deprived of thee
 
hath thou courted him
with thy taunt
for scytheman be not spurned
after thy simper of need
thou sealeth thy doom
 
in death, yea, the yoke
of destiny  
or hath thou scorned my love
beloved
thine eyes turned  
away from mine teary countenance
 
for I Jealous of strange attention,  
swiftly hath forsaken thee
and turned once more
to behold thee  
gone
into the mist of time
with thine own sword
 
shalt I chant thee
into being, beloved
for death return no souls
grip they tight  
with hardy talons
struggle now, but thou shalt not rise
 
O death shalt I sing to thee
with this dagger
to be with my beloved
mine breath grows cold
wherefore art thou...
the night draweth nigh.