Musty esoteric words frantically murmured over flame
Bleak catacomb depths that house the vain attempts
To win back from death’s unfamiliar territory
A heart’s rejoicing light
To win is the soul that somersaults gladly
Reminiscing is dancing where Mortality once lay polluted.
Written over at Pan Historia for a contest where we had a few words we had to include. It got noticed but I wanted to crosspost it here.
Life Belongs to Sekhmet 