-Lurk-
by Arijah Ankh Khalid-Zyn

~for he who moves in mirrors, from the ice and the snow,
I have a story for you to take stern to bow.
Oh yes, I have lore -just a bit of dark rhyme;
about secrets of stone, still moving somewhere in time.
Three from the one, evoked by the dying Saint's hand, 
in the druid garden on the chest of the Lyon man.
Nirvana remains all of Grief and Devotion, 
from Poe word to shepherd, from Adams to notion.
beneath as above, lengths and stitches in clay,
measuring now not the grief, but the actions in play.
She's the guardian of the dead, midnight's betrothed- 
sleep at her doorstep, rest in her robes.
Lurk in her shadow, look deep in her eyes,
and when the bell tolls, may you find your well deserved prize.