Prophecy
When millions will be holding candles,She'll be shining in her silver coffin –
Beautiful as no living being could be:
Cold, magnificent and with an artificial smile.
The tears of the people will be real,
As they will stand as an ocean of mourning
And cry her name throughout the brilliant night,
(weaklings, have they forgotten laughter?)
So that their voices are heard in the lowest depths of hell.
Awakening the beasts and creatures of the parallel world,
Making them wonder what's next to startle them?
Spitting fire, wearing crowns; there's only one king
Worthy of granting her the circle.
The long awaited, tormented coronation amongst the spirits –
Taking place after midnight, between the dead souls
And decomposed priests of lies, aren't caves astonishing?
Let's clash some white gowns into the picture,
One must dare to be sarcastic towards all heavenly angels.
Red carpets from grave to grave, connecting those
Who were shy during the anatomic life. Let's let the rats out –
Decorated with diamonds so heavy, that they break their little feet.
No one less than the Devil will serve the final cut,
Laughing at getting what he truly deserved,
Obtaining power greater than Dante's writings.
She'll die at a young age – what an advantage,
To sink downwards with the wings of greatness
And not with a tiresome glow of a wrinkled body.
Mighty heavens held their world..
Poetry by Francesca Georgia Luca
Read 772 times
Written on 2006-12-15 at 20:45
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