Wheels burning, ever churning, a Maiden of Light yet yearning. Before her, Man of Sorrow lay, now arrived his numbered day. As she aims her chariot true, Fetter’s mind has yet its due. By helm his riven future sprawled, shattered glass his thread enthralled. With sorrow spared by padded blow, common fellow now in stow. Thread rimple, answer simple, she lay gun at sorrow’s temple. two birds in a nest a flock cals before snowfall cut the thread of fate Gun’s roar crying, acrid scent rising, cabin now capsizing Swirling chaos, man unbound, dumping twirling, his mind confound. Maiden fastened, flailing still, chariot rolls against her will. Blades collide, Errant Steel screeches, coppered fluid, man’s head breaches. Severed thread and sorrow swell, upon us now the Final Knell. Harrowed Man’s blight, amidst prism light, pierced by Maiden of Spite.
