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Iscariot by ScarletKisses, literature
Literature
Iscariot
I sit solemnley beneath a courtyard,
Where the sun elopes the moon;
And upon my spindle, spinning,
A spool of scarlet red,
Upon the loom.
This tapestry of ages,
Gem-colored stories and tales of old-
As warriors take their last breaths,
And suffer pains five-fold.
Carried, their souls, upon a clash,
Of thundering hooves and chariots;
As wind coils upon a trophy dashed
From the blood of a fabled Iscariot.
And fire leaps o'er mountaintops,
Decorating dead spirits gold-
While screams and groans
Move monuments,
Soiled saints are sacrificed,
And sold.
The stories weave themselves,
Upon fabled fantasies
Never reality wrought
