i Thwaill

Reading of i Thwaill
Reading of the Wail

i Thwaill

be Liliarian Sonder

Ana i thwretched waill
cut in i thár, am hár laid bár,
an éer i thorrid memorar,
i thloss, i thpán, amn bréer brókana faca grim,
an éer i thfacar éer themem
hu E néer could sáv,
E néer could sáv,
them éer cám crashing at am chest
win such crushing fors,
am hár,
so supplel an so soft,
could jus shatter as brókana glass.

An as E wók,
a yawning chasm darkem.
Dark outer,
an frothen, frítnen darken in am hár.
Am sól betrayen am sól
win ravishen lust af vengens,
in plás o lust af líf.
I thlov at ad lit am líf
as a rorin wít bonfír,
Jus tendrilar o smók remáned,
flóten away,

E called u af i Thmersiful Prinses,
an af i thfirs tím,
saw her bak,
her eyer averted.
An win i thloss o her swét lov,
am rág jus grew,
churnen, burnen, thretenen
am sól tu overták.

Yet E remembered stil
i thfél o líf
i thfél o lov.
Tu liv agan firs mus E dí agan
an so E called on éer E had
éer E had
am las remánen grip on líf
am twisted bodé tu destroy
in hóp i thlov o lov
could rekindl
in me.

The wail

by Liliarian Sonder

And as that wretched wail
Cut through the air, my heart laid bare,
And all the horrid memories
the loss, the pain, the broken face of my dead brother,
And all the faces
Of those I couldn’t save.
I couldn’t save.
And they all came crashing at my chest
with such crushing force,
My heart,
So supple and so soft,
as broken glass.

And as I woke
A yawning chasm of darkness.
Dark outside,
and a frothing, frightening darkness in my heart
as my soul betraying my soul
With a ravishing lust for vengeance
In place
of a love of life.
The love that had lit my life
as a roaring bonfire,
Only tendrils of smoke remained,
Floating away.

I called out to the Merciful Princess!
And for the first time,
I saw her turn her back to me
her eyes averted.
And with that loss
of her sweet love
my rage just grew
Churning. Burning. Threatening
To overtake my soul.

Yet I remembered
The Feel of life.
The Feel of love.
To live again, I must first die again
and so I called on all that I had, all that I had, my last remaining gasp of life
To call destruction to my twisted body
In hopes
the love of life
could rekindle
in me.

i Thwaill

Meier MarkSchwab