wearing but a woven crown of pale lilies
her blacken skin slick with sweat
glistens, a mirror without an image
each movement, each step silent
her body tense, she pauses...listening intently
to the sounds around her
garnet lips form a half smile
she moves once again...invisible
in the the fading light
mute speaking no language
the sound of the wind, the birds of the air
called out as she passed,a patron well known
her shade having no form no substance yet dense
she cast spells and patterns against the broad leaves
some sought her of legend
some for the touch of her hot hot flesh
some a kiss from her blooded mouth
some the feel of her velvet musky skin
sweet lily was she...
sweet her scent to taste
while man's being burned with desire...
tossing and turning in slumber
while white the glow of a lily
she comes in a dream
sweet Lily was she...with a bitter sting
sweet dark as the night she savored
sweet the reaping of men's hearts...
pulsating with each beat
death, decay, dust and ashes lie in her wake
sorrowful Lily not she...
meekly, the fools followed as carrion she made
quick to the core, flaying their souls...
men's lustful natures betraying any hope
unredeemed, a nightmare that never ends
wet dripping...she carries them one by one
in her cold cruel cruel hands
sweet Lily was she...a gift to man
abandoned all to the alter of fate