Silent as an owl's wing,
be a lethal blade
severing the skull
from its dangling bones,
the night from the dream,
the hollow from its skeleton.
Find the rose that
blossomed inside you
before you were a seed.
Even in the deepest grief
those petals do not close,
but release the sweet fragrance
of eternal pain.
This cup holds a raindrop
that contains the sun.
The dead drink here
to remain unborn.
To the goddess of the dark
bow down.
Let her be this breath.