Cloistered behind the high walls,
Bricks of cosmopolitan consumption,
Ambushed by creeping poisonous ivy,
Thickened dusty moulds of wood,
Formed beneath a hidden cavern...
Endless messages outside numbed her,
Listening intently to the silence,
Within her a voice that none can hear,
As still as a mouse in prey can be
She sits facing against the world...
A dim candle flickers in the cavern,
Stenched of blood and sins engraved,
A martyr's wish cannot be reversed,
A torturous yearning to be embraced,
Is it the beginning or is it the end...
Fragile and moving yet not conforming,
The standards of society impenetrable,
Yet the voice aches to be heard,
An audience that knows no bounds,
In the world yet not of the world...
Crouching beneath the chaotic lines,
A thirst insatiable that knows no quench,
A princess in waiting to be fed,
Malnourished beyond the naked eyes,
She starved for bread of words...
Die to herself by means of denial,
Partaking the cross of holy sacrifice,
Be she perfect like a pure bride,
Her parched throat with no sound,
The silent voice awaits the groom