Author's note: "Zalop" is not a real word, so don't try to look it up. *laughs*
Time flies past
Stardust-sprinkled tresses screaming in the wind.
A protest of wild rebellion,
"Zalop, zalop",
Echoes through fervors of ink-splattered youth and
Impassioned revolution.
"Zalop, zalop";
A haunting chant of prophecy
Shrouded in pitchforks and fire
Terrifying in shrieking silence,
The life of unrestrained desire
Cannot save you---
Nor unnecessary ascetic apologies and self-flagellation.
"Zalop, zalop";
Nowhere to hide and nothing to become,
In the end, your love and hate,
Anger and fire, throes of raw
Unbridled sexuality or blood-thirsty revenge,
They all become one.
They are all of us,
Hurdling, flailing, pushing toward
An inevitable towering destination,
Indiscriminant and without feeling.
"Zalop, zalop";
Leave your bloodied handprints on the wall,
A defiant final gesture.
Surprised breaths taken, temporary love without regret,
Mistakes that never were
Life without accusation or apology.
"Zalop, zalop";
The cry is always answered, trembling with anticipation,
A frenzied delirium of silence.
It is a never-ending love letter from the Universe to nothingness
Connections ephemeral, eternal,
Everything and nothing, lost and found,
Anything that never was
Created and destroyed,
Moving in similitude;
"Zalop, zalop."
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Ophelia's Wayward Muse: The Reawakening
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