A Sorrowful Story of Mary Magdalene and Her Heavens Lover

And there were Butterflies
Such a Landscape! I couldn’t tear my Eyes
Covering inch by inch my body, perish from the Frost
Leaving behind a Stigma - it’s the Mole I’ve lost
Therefore, their Wings as a Developer – spot by spot…
I’ve been a pebble, lump but aches the Same, I’ve cast my Lot
The Gospel turned over the Fatal Page – Decree is the Renaissance!
Though on the Wings of Butterflies – a Letter - forget the Callous Phrases!
A Crown – a jetty for Pure Raindrops
Eternal Rest so sudden interrupted – a cricket pops

Oh, look! The Heaven nowadays is wrecked and leaks
The Angel fell to Earth, the Fleurs du Mal he picks
A Bolt from the Blue, a Mundane Goddess from the Storm
A muslin in a shroud, on suburbs, on Lake of Sworn
He comes across, lurking into Her, He’s just like Ghost
Setting Bridges on Fire, lessening the Value of Cost
But then, turns out - He’s merely a Mortal Lad
However, firstly, He was Joan of Arc, dimming of Mud

But, I am twenty thousand million High
Looking from the Mars’s Edge at all Sly
As I’m not Prayer any more, to Be Alone or Be Afraid
I will transfer Him to the Orchard, forsaking the Maid
Starting the Cycle all over again, tilting at the tireless Windmill
Though I know, She won’t stand this Desperate chill…

I Leave Her to Bemoan
As an Eternity ago, He Left me so…