Maelstrom's Servant

The lamenting psalm
sings of the eye of the Maelstrom
Its iris colored with lost souls
who paid the Passion tolls

Orb of Eternity housed this wonder
whose fury could tear all asunder
The Orb demanded a Servant
and release comes on the Advent

Following the Moon Rite
She donned a robe of pristine white
Like priestess of Old
Her fate bound by a cord of gold

Glint in her eyes of beauty
was devotion to her sacred duty
With a woman's natural grace
She drew the Orb into her embrace

Such suffering she saw within
What could she do? Where to begin
Healing tears she shed
but twisted in the vortex instead

Pain pierced through her breast
and anger filled her chest
Her thoughts and sight turned dark
her aura carried a storm's spark

As darkness in her awoke
Settled over her a black cloak.
Her now haunted eyes receded
and her will she conceded.

Her face to her became but a wraith
In her burned the blind faith
She worshipped the Maelstrom
and overhead, upheld it in her palm'

Yet as her servitude draws nigh
Her flesh seared by the fervent Eye
Its fervor made her blood seethe
and her bosom heaved to breathe

The molten glass fusing with her
Essence drawn slowly into the stir
Instinct withdrew her hands
Act outside of everyone's plans

No one fed the hunger loads
and then the Orb implodes
Fire and ashes the litter
and the shards her skin's glitter

She bled but she smiled
For icons of freedom she styled
The Maelstrom itself consumed
So its lost souls' passing resumed

Picture I: Priestess
Picture II: Servant of Maelstrom
Picture III: Priestesses

Written late May and early June of 2004.