Two sisters dance a circle round,
One bright and fair, one darkened cloud,
Tied to each other, a cycle bound,
Shared power, no separation found.
One breeze of life, one spark of death,
One breaks the world, one brings back breath.
Chaos, order, growth, and lethe –
Everyone must walk their path.
The shining sister’s skin is gold,
Her eyes belie the love – behold –
Their essence, black and empty, old,
Pitiless, uncaring, cold.
They say that life is beautiful –
She may be that, but she’s not kind.
She’ll tell you truths you cannot hear,
And lead you lost down roads that bind.
She’ll bend your power and make it bloom,
Ask you to shoulder your own tomb,
Take one last step, and then one more…
She’ll never let you go, at all.
She’ll drink you dry, you’ll think it’s love –
Nothing in her heart will move…
All she is is fight and fuck…
She’s blood, and gore, and rage and pluck.
Her sister’s skin is pale corpse,
Her blood is silver, bones are swords,
Her heart is bold, a flame that wards,
Her song has comfort in its chords.
They say that death is frightening –
And perhaps she is, when you don’t know…
All truths are hidden inside lies,
And rest is found under her blow.
She’ll take you to the depths of peace,
She offers gentle, final surcease –
She asks that you let burdens go,
And follow her where flesh can’t go.
She’ll kiss your pain away at last,
No struggles, no demands or tasks,
She is the ease that all deserve,
She kindly asks, “How may I serve?”
Everyone’s afraid of death –
They think that she’s the enemy…
But of the two, life is more cruel –
She simply wears it pleasantly.