Out of the darkest light,
There shines the muse - Angelic and bright,
Eyes deep; glistening with the fires of hell,
Yet a face that says from heaven she hath fell.
With innocence and knowledge partnered in equality,
To my soul she doth bring great harmony,
Words to my spirit the muse does speak,
Here to breathe strength into all that is weak.
Beauty like no other: ran through with the perfect blade,
Out of the Angels very own love she is made.
Without the muse I cease to exist,
Without the muse I am but a shadow in the mist,
If I die she shall be my coffin,
As without the muse I am nothing.
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