The Pact

The night cracked under whips of oppression.

Plotting with slow digression,

Upon the lips of deception,

For fear of sheer rejection.

Sharp clangs screeched through the thick brush.

A shadowy figure appears

It is dazed and in a frenzy.

Worn, tired, rabid, and alone.

It falls to the forest floor

Disturbing the creatures below.

A white butterfly drifts through the darkness.

Fluttering towards the frail beast.

She hovers over its body,

Gently perching on its chest.

She hums a song of times past…

The beast cries out in agony.

Weeping tired tears of release.

Recalling such wondrous tones.

Its cold heart pounds ruby red.

Blinding white light sheds its black cloak.

A pile of ebony dust shrouds the grasses.

Two specks rise up from the ashes,

one white, the other black

integrated as one always, a pact.