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A recorded reading of “Red Drips Beneath the Veil”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
A sentinel cloaked in ivory stillness, Shadows stitched to a fractured frame. Her face, a void of polished night, Consumes the light that dares to claim. Beneath her lies a twin, smothered in ink, Drenched in tides of unraveling form. The spill, a secret, seeps still deeper, Where black meets white, and silence mourns. Above, the sanguine sun looms vast, Its weeping burns the breath of sky. Each drop, a scar—a whispered requiem, For life erased in hues that die. She stands, a paradox stark and cruel, A priestess mourning her own demise. Her robes, a shroud of brittle purity, Her hands, deep-stained by crimson skies. Here, time is captive, motion betrayed, A tableau of endings—stillness, stayed.
Alternative version
A sentinel cloaked in ivory stillness, Shadows stitched to a fractured frame… Her face, a void of polished night, Consumes the light that dares to claim. Beneath her lies a twin, smothered in ink, Drenched in tides of unraveling form. Above, the sanguine sun looms vast, Its weeping burns the breath of sky. Each drop, a scar—a whispered requiem, For life erased in hues that die. She stands, a paradox stark and cruel, A priestess mourning her own demise. Her robes, a shroud of brittle purity, Her hands, deep-stained by crimson skies. Here, time is captive, motion betrayed, A tableau of endings—stillness, stayed. Above, the sanguine sun looms vast, Its weeping burns the breath of sky. Each drop, a scar—a whispered requiem, For life erased in hues that die.
Lyrics
A sentinel cloaked in ivory stillness, Shadows stitched to a fractured frame… Her face, a void of polished night, Consumes the light that dares to claim. Beneath her lies a twin, smothered in ink, Drenched in tides of unraveling form. Above, the sanguine sun looms vast, Its weeping burns the breath of sky. Each drop, a scar—a whispered requiem, For life erased in hues that die. She stands, a paradox stark and cruel, A priestess mourning her own demise. Her robes, a shroud of brittle purity, Her hands, deep-stained by crimson skies. Here, time is captive, motion betrayed, A tableau of endings—stillness, stayed. Above, the sanguine sun looms vast, Its weeping burns the breath of sky. Each drop, a scar—a whispered requiem, For life erased in hues that die.
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