Love Poem: A Mandrake's Gesture Vol. Vi
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Written by: Trevor Morse

A Mandrake's Gesture Vol. Vi

Nowhere now, Geinere
awaited her day of 
unrightly judgment,
her only hopes of 
victory brought thoughts
of remorse and 
further difficulties
for herself and her dying
love.  No embrace
could be made.
Her silence would 
remain, for accusations
of such made, was 
sure death for thee.
Her soul became
fierce, conjuring
redemption for this 
instillment, a fall from grace,
her skillful prowess,
her warrior bringing
forth chaos.  Lightning
crashed as the tumults 
of her Goddess'
vengeance squalled
from the uproarious 
heavenly sky.  

"These leperous times of 
love's decay, porches
of word, betrayed.
May our devotion
sate our divine
qualm, a subtle 
devil delays, for 
biddings may take 
afar.  Be it region
my fate, due your 
rank and garb.  For 
thee upon a graceful
whim, perchance pray, your
folly for your conceit
and vindication.
My reputation banished
into the fathoms of a
conceivable Hell, 
this lifetime.
These thoughtless 
lusts, be it not perverse,
unholy absolute!"
Tears of silence beckoned
the oncoming storm,
a prelude to the 
saga of love made
true, dire consequences
of chaste and grim 
truth.
- - - -
The next morn. . .
- - - -
"Geinere, my new
found love, your 
beauty and essence 
of the divine.
Can'st be so
familiar, for the task
of royalty, a tragic
array of misgivings
found."  Prince Alarumdives
spoke ever-softly, akin
to the King's arrogance, though
ignorant of his wicked deeds, 
this past eve.
"My Prince?"
"What'st my father
demand, for your saddened
face, this morn?"
"He has foresaken you
my love, our marriage
troubled, his grievances."
"I see my love."
"I am sorry if our 
unition burden
your reputation, be it
not true, for a taint
crimson mine to yours
and your own."
"No Geinere, you know
my love for you, the 
deepest perils of valor.
You are my passion,
my grace, my spirit's
nestle.  My love for you
Geinere, the fullest,
a garden of blossoming
joy, yours and mine.
Happiness take'st with
thee, goodness and 
romance's virtue."
"My Prince. . . ."
Her eyes welling
tears, her pain her 
bare."
"My Geinere, tomorrow
yours true, for thee to 
wed, our grace and 
passion fulfilled, 
the kingdom royal 
renewed."
"Yes my Prince,
pray our vows, not 
to become shrewd.
May my Goddess, now 
Christom, strengthen
my soul."
"Geinere, what'st that 
troubles you, may I
ask?"
"I am at no mercy,
let us parry this,
yours made true, 
may your father's
blessing bestowed not
compromise a 
spiteful discourse. . . ."