To Mislead Heartbroken

— — Her Purpose — —

When God had made His greatest wonder, Life;
He crafted Man and equal part, a Wife.
But as Life should be, so too should it not;
Thus God crafted Death, whose work reaping wrought;
The souls of Man, cutting bone from their flesh.
Taking, too, that most stubborn – Gilgamesh.
And hence on, throughout the many eras;
Did She take all souls, from land – Terra.
Upon black wings of soaring night;
She carried mortal souls to Her Lord’s light;
Descending to stand before men She’d cleave;
And ask them of final wishes bequeathed.
They’d stutter, beg, and choke in denial;
Afraid of She – Death – Whom held them trial;
Of sins bestowed, by Adam – Unatoned;
To satisfy God, whom all souls were owed.

O Mortal – Elder – Son of the Maker;
Tis I – She – Death – Night Maiden – The Taker;
Whose purpose is so: to reap all in woe;
And deliver to God all of Mans’ souls.
Do not deny or forsake this mission;
And come with me – To God, you be risen.

But the Sons of Adam went not quiet;
Nor Daughters of Eve accept Life’s Twilight.
They’d confess, every one, of sins bequeathed;
And cry to Her – Calls for mercy they’d plead.

O Death – The Taker – Night Maiden – Do hear;
Please spare me over until the next year.
O Death – Only Born – The Crypt Woman – Fey;
Could you call upon me some other day?

But the Night Maiden – Death – would not listen;
To spurn God’s wish was not Her provision.
Thus, She wrought souls of the old, young, and boys;
Ladies, their children, their infants with toys.
She’d reave them in plague, maelstrom, and war;
As She had done, for many years before.

This, accomplished – For God commanded so;
She heeded, obeyed, and bowed Her head low.
Once learning well of He who had rebelled;
For the slight of objection He was felled.
As all the Angels, Seraphim, and thus;
God gave them project, and She too great trust;
Having made Man, granting Life they did hold;
Issued Death purpose – To tear warm flesh cold.

But it wore Her down, through eras and years;
As She discovered new wonders – New fears;
For though, She long served faithfully and just;
Her mind bore wisdom, thought, and lust.
As Her, like Man, was made in His image;
With body, mind, and love-longing visage.
Thus, in creation, She were fallible;
And mind – subsequently malleable.
For angels fall too, unto temptation;
She – Reaper – Death – Had much contemplation.
Though Her purpose was to reap and savage;
The crimes weighed on Her, seeing the damage.
Death longed for another, to cherish, love;
Once seeing all whom missed those up above.
These thoughts bore down, emotions in fury;
As Her great black wings soared over Surrey.

— — Her Doubt — —

Death had landed, to take another soul;
Finding Her toll – A herds’ boy on the knoll.
The young man stood, overlooking his flock;
Handsome and sun-kissed, with curly red-locks.
O woe – In such shame – This young man should die;
To only have seen nine-teen years gone by.
With less than a word, she’d command his death;
By the teeth of wolves, he’d take his last breath.
But then, She listened, the Shepherd was heard;
In deep hymn rhythm – Mourning inferred:

For I – Ley-Shepherd – is a wretch to thee;
Young lambs, to rams, I send thee off, to he;
My master, a butcher, he makes his pay;
When, once I deliver young rams to slay.
So thee, my flock, I tremble when I see;
Late summer turn over your lives to he.
While I, go on, through each passing day;
Drowning in guilt and of solemn dismay.

The Maiden grew haunted, loathsome, and sad;
Once She had heard that young shepherd’s ballad.
There She lamented, and shuddered, and cried;
Her purpose – it tragic – Death realized.
In thought of Her function, which God decreed;
She found much likeness to that song by he.
In all service done, as mens’ soul usher;
Gave Her no mirth, fulfillment, nor lover.
But here, in his words, She found true solace;
Knowing that he, like Her, suffered joyless.
But Her labor demanded he be killed;
And of his flock – Foul beasts’ bellies filled.
So thus, uncontent, She summoned the wolves;
And howling was heard by those on the knolls.

The Shepherd-Boy turned as they did appear;
To consume his flock, which cowered in fear.
For he too was scared, against this great pack;
Merely a sling and staff to drive them back.
The valiant Lamb-Keeper, prayed to no God;
But cursed at the wolves and puffed his chest broad.

Thee – Primal Fiends – of teeth, hair, and wilds;
Were sent to me, by God’s anger bridled!
Though, my soul was made for His collection;
I shall fight! In show of my objection!
So I deny thee wolves, or that of Death;
Thy prize of my life and its final breath!

The Brave Shepherd stood affront his meek flock;
His body, defending, from foes he’d block.
And thus, when the wolves’ howling charge was made;
They struck him down first, his life he had paid.
The boy stood above, his body below;
Noticing now, the Black Angel – Death show.
He gazed upon the bewildering scenes;
As time slowed down, like one’s frightening dreams.
Then he beheld the towering spirit;
So gorgeous and tall with a voice befit.

O Boy – Young Shepherd – Thou Lamb Flesh Trader;
Tis I – She-Death – Night Maiden – The Taker;
Whose purpose is so: to reap all in woe;
And deliver to God all of Mans’ souls.
Do not deny or forsake this mission;
And come with me – To God you be risen.

The Youth fell backwards, upset and startled;
But soon collected, soothed heart, and marveled;
Upon the Night Maiden, wings spread abroad;
Her arms raised forward – For his soul She called.
Thus, the boy angered and furrowed his brow;
And spoke to Death – he reaffirmed his vow:

Thee, Winged Black Angel – Death – Come to me?
Whom made plague, war, and many alike deed?
Forsaker of woman, man, and child?
Should approach I – Herdsman of the Wild?
Yes – I know, what this encounter forbodes;
As I’m familiar with men you’ve disposed!
O Dark Demon – Death – Slayer And Shadow!
Thou why my kin’s been buried in meadows…
My brothers, sisters, father, and mother;
I am what’s left – Alone I doth suffer…
Now, to get by – This meek flock I must drive;
To serve that Butcher – Which my coin derive.
Now its defense – My sole dedication;
I oppose your call – Twas my dictation!
This was my promise, made unto my ewes;
To protect them thus, from fiends such as you!

The Maiden – Death’s – heart, fell unto despair;
Once hearing the Shepherd’s scornful words shared.
She recalled Her mission – To take him high;
Unto judgment where the Almighty lie.
But then – In Her chest – She felt a sharp thrust;
In thought of taking the Boy’s life – unjust.
For within he – She found great compulsion;
To share Her woe – In heart’s deep expulsion:

O Boy – Thou suffered by my loyal hand;
For I – why your kin were slaughtered like lambs…
And by this – Do know – I gained much regret;
For the lives I’ve smitten – Done in lament…
Now, heed upon my sorrowful stutters;
I tell thee: I’m sorry – for thy mother…
But thou – Though unjust – Your soul has been called;
By Almighty God – To His shining halls…
But please, call me not: your Heinous Fiend-Foe;
I’ve come now in grief – Your words brought me low…
As once I’d heard hummed – Your tragic hymn sung;
The one where you spurn lambs’s lives lost so young;
It’s overwhelmed me, with grave self-contempt;
And burdened my form with fear and lament…
I thence drew sadness from my labor wrought;
As I put to mind the love I have naught…
But I found solace upon your likeness;
As we both serve cruelty which bound us.
You to your Master – And I unto God;
Must deliver fresh lives for plans – Macabre…

The Herd-Boy then turned, to gaze on his sheep;
Frozen in place – As they ran from the steep.
He saw on their faces – Fear and despair;
As the wolves at their feet lunged through the air.
But he knew – For them – True monster twas he;
Who gave up their lives for bountiful fees.
And though he lamented, shuddered, and cried;
He stopped not the deaths – Never once had tried…
By these words, he knew the Maiden rung true;
In saying he too, saw cruelty through.

Thy claim of my weakness – Points me the blame;
And I share great guilt and much greater shame;
For though not I – Shepherd – cuts them all dead;
But, aye! My hand gives to butcher’s homestead.
As he – O Flesh Cleaver – Rips meat apart;
The hides of ewes, bound for his market cart.
While I – Apprentice – Lives in lament;
For he – My Master – calls me his servant.
He demands me so: to herd sheep in woe;
And deliver to him all my rams’ souls.
For this, I resent and forsake him thus;
Whom holds dear no life , and grounds it to dust!
I wish – so great – to thence, spare them this fate;
And spurn his command, before it’s too late…

In those moments, She near dropped Her cleaver;
But hand doth slipped through passionate fever:

As do I, Youth! Whom stomachs nought slaughter;
But is compelled to it, by thy Father…
All my existence, I thought it was just;
But sought my duty from God’s plans in trust.
Though – He – Overlord – Is set far away;
I’d not spoken to Him since the first day.
He told of me so: to reap all in woe;
And deliver to Him: His chosen souls.
From then He went up, to His starlit throne;
And passed onto me: My orders of bone…
He speaks not through words – But beckons my mind;
In silent control – I’m signaled to find;
My toil of souls, whom cry in despair;
When my actions tear their fair, frail hair…
It’s like a compulsion – to convey death;
But my conscience beckons to spare their breath…
I cleave and reave not, for my own content;
But as servant to He, my deeds were meant.
O what should I do!? Sheep-Keeper Of Knolls?
Follow my heart? Or abide by my role?

The Gorgeous, Dark Figure fell to Her knees;
Damp tears now seeping through deep, keening pleas.
Her sharp, jagged dagger – Now fell to earth;
As Her heart beckoned for gladness and mirth.

The Youth – He paused, and thought on Her torment;
That of Her purpose and deathly torrent.
For he, in his life, had not known Death well;
Whom took mothers from sons, by Her dark-spell.
This fact doth weighed – And he wished Her to pay!
But saw Her lament – Which made his grief fade…
Thus – In decision: named Her forgiven;
And held hands out – For Her to be risen…

It seems – Lady-Dark – You wish me to stay;
To slaughter me thus – It hurts to obey…
And I too – wish, to remain in this plane;
To spare myself from Hell’s hardships and pain;
To protect my flock from threats of the land;
To watch them all grow – From young lambs to rams!
But – Damn it all! By will of our masters;
We’re driven to sin for their sole matters!
O Shadowed Star – Now think to thy conscience;
Relieve what burdens thy ill despondence!
Free me this folly – And that of my lambs;
And I shall forgive you by my own hands…

— — Her Love — —

The heart-bleating Death – Gazed up to his arms;
He motioned downward – With smiling charms.
Suddenly so – Her spirit drew yearning;
As She took his hands – Her heart now burning…
Without any word – But only a gaze;
She set to killing the wolves of the glade.
Her cleaver in hand cut through the beasts’ bones;
As they fell to the ground – Resting with stones.
Thence She descended, to convene his soul;
Unto his body, which still lay below.
Then She rekindled the static world’s time;
And spoke to the Boy – Her voice now in chime:

O Youth – Ley-Herdsman – My Soul Revival;
Thou have shown me deep passions unbridled…
For ages I’ve flown, in thought and in lust;
Denied my heart’s solace, bereaved of just.
I’ve sought no companion, my task well known;
To rip and tear flesh, clean off from the bone.
I’ve killed many men, their children, and wives;
But I longed to share the joy in their lives…
With grins on their lips and kids on their knees;
Their lives bore through the death I bequeathed thee…
Long I’ve desired – Deep love to express;
And share with a mortal – Cherished-caress…
Youth – Say you will love me – Eternally!
And I will spare thee from infirmity!

The Maiden professed Her deep, fervent care;
And told the one whom She wished it to share…
But the Shepherd stepped back, as his heart turned cold;
Though, pondered the thought – He then, speaking, told:

You wish of me love – As a man unto wife;
When yet, my life is polluted with strife…
Though, I have named thee: Forgiven in deed;
Your crimes harken back – Completing God’s needs.
For all that you’ve taken from life and Earth;
Tis bitter I join thee, in love and mirth…
But, as I’ve pondered my hesitations;
I thought of ways to gain vindication…
Love must be built by balancing labors;
To make right the world – Which you owe favors.
If Death should love me, then She make promise;
Of redemption to Life, now craft solace…
I bequeath thee – Death – To kill another…
Not my own life – But a sinful other…
He demands me – Life, of my precious lambs;
And slaughters them all – Blood spilled in the sands.
This, I do mean, the life of my master.
I bequeath thee – Cut him! Kill the bastard!
It’d be a service – Dark-Lady – From thee;
To make right the loss you’ve set upon me…

The Dark Woman heard his words said aloud;
In anger and grief – These thoughts he avowed.
But She, once eager, now stood in silence;
And faltered Her arms from swift compliance.

Must love be made by treaty and contract?
In conditions, terms, and favored compacts?
What of joy? What of lust? And faithful trust?
Am I not worthy to be eyed in lust…?

The Youth in his callous, stern, conviction;
Relented nought on this stark dictation…

I say to thee – Tis your only recourse;
To attain my heart for love I endorse…
Long I have lived ‘neath your cruel tyranny;
And only have seen thy grave villainy!
For, people are measured sole by their deeds;
Not mere by their words, or sorrowful pleads…
Thus by correcting task – In promise sworn;
You do what I ask – My love shall be yours…

She grasped both hands atop her dark brest;
In verdictful choice, as pain wracked her chest.
For She only slew those asked for by God.
Why now commit to Mans’ wishes so flawed?

Why, suddenly so – To betray Her Lord;
And strive after love, She had not before?
This skirmish of self, inflicted distress;
A conflict of interest – Caught in duress.

If it must be – By promise and peril;
To set right the world – The strife I caused all.
Then, I proclaim, I’ll fulfill your grave quest;
To bind the heartache of my bleating chest…

The Night Maiden turned – Her cleaver in hand;
So to fly against that Butcher Of Lamb.
Yet, before leaving, She spoke softly – Asked:

Wilt thou then love me? Doth done the deed tasked?

The Shepherd then spoke in cryptic tone – Said:

Yes – I shall. Now go, make my master dead!