Hathor

Why is it, now my heart falls to the floor,
why suffer so, when seems my pain has passed?
From whence hath this dark weight upon my core
come with its torch to set me all aflame?

To what dark end, and which dark lord is served
by th'assault of twisted hope upon my soul.
His strength secure, his mastery surely proved,
I have no sword with which I might recoil.

I see no portal, no escape from bearing love
without the sacrifice of, darker still,
yet 'nother passion that, in me, doth rage
and breaks and breaks the ideal of my will.

For in the greatest song of me, entwined,
you lie, clothed in the deepest of my vines.