Limpid, dark indigo pools.
She smiles in satisfaction,
Thinking, men are such fools!
Another soul captured.
His mind’s eye seeks within the chaos,
Searching, trying hard to find
Among the kaleidoscopic colours,
Somewhere, rest for his mind.
Poor soul, captured.
She feels the struggles of the soul,
And counters with her touch.
But he is stronger than she thought,
That action is too much.
Poor soul, beleaguered.
His mind finds, grasps at forms of birds,
Black crows, flying high and free.
There, his mind cries, clinging fast,
That is how I wish to be!
His soul, enraptured
Clings to those forms above the chaos,
Sees them, hears their harsh cries,
Struggles to understand the bonds,
Looks past her beauty to her lies,
Her spell is fractured.
He blinks, and frees his gaze from hers,
Sees beauty hiding evil.
“Get thee behind me, Satan’s whelp!
Thou handmaid of the devil!”
Soul now well armoured.
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