Coveted silence, coveted night, revelations flood like streams of light.
When purpose ceases, when vision fails, when love is gone,
I can hear every banshee’s wail.
I see the wooden plots cresting on the water’s gentle waves.
Archers with their flaming bows, aiming towards the floating graves,
Valhalla screams, “Come home!”, to those lost lingering souls.
In their death, they are found,
Divine hands sweeping back the unseen veil.
A mere breath and all may fail, a mere breath and all might be well.
Do not fear the darkness, for it cannot exist without the light.
Do not despise the hard fall against the unforgiving ground,
for strength cannot be shown without rising to your feet.
Do not despair over the battles and wars that are lost,
for without conflict, love’s untested nectar couldn’t taste as sweet.
Do not rage against just and unjust death,
for they are fixed and inevitable points in time.
In our darkest hours, in the vilest of nights,
in the midst of death’s cruel blow,
the human soul is embraced and accepted, Love always taking us home.
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