She came in silver hush,
a specter draped in tattered glow,
her shadow long as winter’s breath,
her eyes a cratered gleam.
Men of stone and law stood fast,
edicts carved in thunder’s tongue,
yet bowed their heads to hear her scorn—
a thorn that wept in curling rust.
"Where are the hands to cradle them,
the arms to hew the path ahead?
You stand as walls—cracked, crumbling, bare—
while roots unravel into dust!"
This whisper, coiled in serpent’s grace,
unfurled in the women’s ears.
They seized the mantles cast aside—
hammers, thrones, the morning steel—
their fingers raw with calloused dreams.
"No longer shall they bow and break,
pale lilies drowning under stone,
no longer breathe the bitter rot
of blossoms left to die alone!"
The city stirred—a stalking beast,
its belly low in prowling dusk,
its breath a grave-stench, thick with spoil,
its hunger pacing, claw to fang.
Then children bent to taste the wind,
its bitter promise on their tongues.
She fed them words of broken chains,
of shackles locked in sacred vows,
of freedom gnawed from marrowed bones.
"They keep you caged in hollow oaths,
in blood-inked laws that bend like reeds!
Devour them—leave nothing whole!
Unmake, unbind, tear down, take hold!"
Her voice was windblown cinders now,
a hollow cry, unstrung, unmoored—
a hawk that clawed against the sky,
its hunger twisting in its wings.
And so the streets began to howl—
a wild chorus, raw and sharp,
its echoes snapping, laced with fangs,
a lawless tide that drowned the stars.
With hands unbound, they tore apart
the walls their fathers built in fire,
cast down the gods, unspun the sky,
until the heavens raged.
The storm came swift, in ashen tongues,
the sun fell low, devoured whole—
and flame, a beast of wrathful breath,
rose up to claim its own.
Yet she, the daughter of the moon,
walked through ruin, unscathed, untouched,
her lips a hush of ghostly calm—
no gasp, no grief, no backward glance.
She paused—a shadow, shifting thin,
her hands curled tight, her jaw unhinged,
as if the feast had starved her more.
Then laughter, sharp as snapping bone,
ripped loose and sent her prowling on,
a phantom drifting toward the dawn.
