Vinur

It's ecstasy to fly again, surrounded by the warm lavender light of my first blooming. The strange luminosity feels like the caress of a or the kiss of a pearl. I know this new landscape is too fragile to sustain a numinous garden.
Too soon it fades and shrivels, leaving fragrant memories. I gather the dried petals into a sacred place and wait for a future rejuvenation fertilized by all this sin and pain and refuse. Now that I've embraced the sky and set my house on fire, your swords will never pierce so deep again. I have tasted the rose. She may be sleeping in her bottomless grave but I can still hear her dreaming, whispering my name in the night.