I walked alone through this thorned tree land,
Distance, time stood still, graceful plans.
Beyond the veil
lingered frail silence that prevailed,
Beneath a moon where blackness hit white
I located my lair bathed in light.
.
A white cradle with ivy and thorns,
Sweet and Edgy, gory horns.
Glass floors glossy like my thralls:
A charred ceiling and grass for walls
"She lives here" echoes amongst the vaults.
.
My lair is high in the sky, below the fields stretch wide ----
A cliff on either side.
Fences that held silver wire, like twisted bone,
and scorned those reborn.
.
The sheep are trapped —
not by the keep,
only the truth that they failed to keep.
They bleat in shame, they cry, they pace —
Faces and masks fakely placed.
.
No flames here burn unless you resurrect here,
tortured souls silenced, dear
As I once was when the neighbor's ignited my face,
My screams muted, a painful fate.
The soul stays where time doesn't move,
The fence's face proved their doom.
Truth is the law here: no spoofs.
.
The Sheep Keep is neither heaven or hell ----
It is a mirror that reflects how the righteous fell.
My pasture is high, cold, and gray:
Lies must not bend untruthful ways.
And I, the Shepherdess make them weep —
They are mine to keep.