Locked in the frozen beauty of her mind
And chained by fevered desires of the flesh,
Wandering between islands of mankind
And foul dark waters that make souls retch.
Fear reigns with each drop of infected
Blood on burning skin, the holy myth
Of God's touch. Stigmata of a tainted
Soul, such suffering He calls a gift.
Yet still the hand of Lucifer holds tight
To a thrilled and yielding body, pulled
Back from God and to the Fallen's rite
That leaves her reeling and enthralled.
Torn between being Day's Saint and Night's Whore,
An innocent caught in the eternal Holy War.
I hope it's okay, but this a mix between Option 1 (a sonnet) and Option 2-C (the picture).
I have written this with a particular idea in mind, but I would rather keep it quiet and leave this for people's own views, whether they want to take it literally as a story about a woman being pulled between God and Lucifer, or if it's metaphoric for the inner struggle that many people go through in life. Please see it however you wish :-) And apologies for the rather obvious title, but I can't think of anything else at the moment...suggestions are welcome :-)
Written September 17th, 2006