Timor Amoris

Fear exists with only love,

four runes burnt on wings of doves.

Peace shall reign if we are tempted,

fevered pitch, burning vestments.

To lift the weight one tips the scales,

iron coins replace five nails.

Scalding pigment burns the wing,

painted thick they cannot sing.

When it drips to break the dreams,

souls retreat, bodies obscene.

With books and words I pine for penance,

a seers dues paid ,

the price, ignorance.