Avis In Cavea

"You are free,"

master told me,

so I flew;

I sprang free.

I flew high,

more swiftly,

toward a light,

who glowed brightly.

I drew closer,

more closer.

But I crashed,

and hit glass.

"You are free,"

master told me.

I flew not, for

I was not free.

Puella

She looms over me,
    as dark skies before rain

    falls; she

    takes away my pain

     that I might suffer none again.

She blossoms
   in spring, and dies,

   in Winter's bosom.

   Perfection fills her smiles

   that pull me from my demise.