Glitter in the cement

It thronged and thumped, vibrating in the earth.
Echoing the stamps of dinosaurs long since departed.
Within and captured, like watching eyes, it waited for the moment.
For the fall of the moon.
The death of the sun.
A complete blackness that inked all over, choking out life.
It needed to be hidden, it waited to be revealed.
The power that dwelt inside could only ignite by the fuse of a fall.
The complete shattering of a heart, life and mind.
It began to sparkle.
Breathed upon by the lips of such angels.
Pulsed and sparked.
Vibrating through like the whispers of a distant time.
It turned the gravestones to dust.
Set the ravens a flight.
Filled the veins once more with milk and honey.
It lived in you, all along.
Always knowing how to win, when to begin.
To never banish the darkness.
But instead, to transform it to light.

Craving miracles

She began to lie.
Her fingers clasped in on themselves, feeling the strength and weakness in her grasp.
The church, empty now of all souls except those she had come to talk with.
Tears brimming in the eyes, they stung like the holy water welled in the font.
Singeing the new-borns brought in against their will.
The lies came quick and easy.
Words of living danced from her mind and mouth.
Painting the walls the velvet colour of sin which faith knew all too well.
Her prayers circled her and danced above to illuminate the ceiling of the church.
All gold and crisp like an autumn leaf caught in the sun.
Little sparks born from the light that was housed inside of her.
She lied by saying she could cope with this still.
The betrayal to god was that she thought she could go on.
But he knew, and he listened still.
As did all the saints breathing there like ghosts.
She clenched and fumed, crying all the while.
It was hard for her to know someone who knew her better than herself.
But would not wish her well.
For god would not lift a finger in her plight.
He didn’t then, he wouldn’t now.
No matter how many tears flowed in that church.
They would dry all the same.
Those walls would hear his name, again and again.
She lay down, and closed her eyes; using a bible as a small pillow.
Breathing in the dusty time of incense and pieces of flesh.
She waited for the miracle much promised, what better place to wait.
She lies there still, but do not wake her.
For she may still be dreaming.