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Date Posted:21:27:46 01/25/04 Sun
Your soul and heart burned with silver starfire,
And the blood of heros coursed through your every vein.
Lineage of The Stuarts; Sovereign Queen Of England,
Yet martyred in ignomy and pain.
The Manichean duel raged in you,
Between good and evil; in contradiction to burn.
Yet you are enthroned on diadems of jewels,
And wielding sword and flame you shall return.
You were like Sophia and Charis,
In power and innocence like Persephone.
Yet tormented and taken down by usurpers,
To stop you from setting your people free.
In all of England and the Americas,
Millions saw in you their Queen.
Your dignity burning with brightest fire,
Your nobility your credo yet unseen.
Yet you were mortal and in pain you could not bear,
And there were many that would stop you from your stand.
Thwarted by tricksters beholden to the purse,
Nowhere to find a guiding hand.
Yet you scoffed at usurpers so far beneath you,
Your soul was radiant with exalting power!
You would have risen up in your people's soul,
And brought an end to their blasted tower:
Raised on falsity and lies,
With a grim curse through more cursed ages.
The boards crawling with rats and foul deceit,
Aeons of sin along with their wages.
Martyred like Charis in most vile murder,
Your legacy yet shall never end.
For in resplendance of form you shall return,
And your people will fight for you again!