Birth and death of illusion.

On a field mined with the deceiving
she sighs a whispery cry
the birth of unwanted hope
that shall live during the dark
waiting to be found
to be melted, to be caught.

And in the ecstasy of desire
awaken she will be
a touch, one look
will release her from her pain.

Walking within a dream
she will sing of her long gone despair
carried in the arms of the wind
she will speak of her lust, her claim.

And at night, a coal with no shine
she will tremble with memories
awaiting the axe that will fall on her light
and death will embrace her
one last time.