Maiden of the Glade

God rested a stained soul,
With awful blessings sold.
Oh, had love taken a home,
In before she slept alone?

I wished, or else to stay,
To pray, near golden glade.
She, who those called Astra,
Paid the name through pity.

For the white round her lips,
Bore the lightened clouds high,
All who praised Astra,
Gave poor senseless love.

When the fires cleansed her,
Of her smoldering, cursed cold.
Lovers, whom Astra toyed with,
Gave up their simple bright hues.

This serene glowing judgement,
All for she, whose longing sent,
Up to Heaven, serpent’s spell,
For a woman’s glowing heart.

Astra feebly fell downward,
To depths, body kept thorns.
She who, simply charmed words,
Bereaved my life forward.

Here, for spring’s own sorrows,
Now wearied by this love.
I, with golden tears,
Face grim saddened years.

Should Astra rise,
Towards silver moon,
I would face demise,
In sight of doom.

As love was, surely true,
Within my heart, brand new.

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