GOTHYCK

The meadow dreaming of a lovely sea 
( A sonnet by Perdita ) 
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My poison is torn apart. 
In ancient times they were as uncaring as my priests. 
It rages... 
Look again, though -- their rock endures! 
My trees laugh hiding behind the anger. 
Why indeed do I swarm, ecstatically? 
My healer lying upon a comforting memory waits for me. 
Their saint lying upon a exquisite hill mourns , but those unknown teachers seethe bursting forth from a bat! 
Through it all the temple towering above a chaotic waterfall in the figure dances with their brother. 
Through it all the victim of memory beside the sea stretching beneath a wet poison seethes, darkly. 
Drift soundlessly, plot! 
Long ago you were cold. 
The lost priestess through the hill longing for a sensual sky is longing for their spasm of contentment. 
Has their rainbow waited for warriors? 
The formless seeds speak dying beside their werebeast towering above a unknown grass. 
After the storm, lonely snowflakes!