Spun silver, the direst moon

           loomed deadly in the pitch of night.

My heart was consumed entirely

           in a web too deftly woven.

How swiftly Passion entangled

           each fragile, pagan dream.

Without a sound of warning,

          poison fingers clutched their prey.

Too many victims lingered,

          shrinking threads of tattered remains.

My soul screamed in the struggle,

          that soon, would join the rest.