The Child

The Child

            My courage is mine, and mine alone.

Its pulse and breath, weighed by stone.

A rose, a cross, a heart bled bare,

Enclose the infant and rightful heir.

 

These eyes that paint my world around,

And the sounds in which my name is bound,

Come from an ocean vast unknown,

But they are mine and mine alone.

 

My darkness too is within my breast,

And has etched designs without rest.

Groping, clawing onto my veins,

Its sorrow speaks in twisted chains.

 

But deep within my bloody streams,

Swims the child of ancient dreams.

Whose flaming voice chars the bone,

And claims this life as mine alone.