Gloom & The Virgin
In a tableau framed by light,
In the garden, moonlit night.
He slumps in form, a mass of earth,
She stands erect while giving birth.
On his lap, she finds her throne,
Sanctuary, flesh of stone.
He’d cradles her if he had arms,
And she’d reveal all of her charms.
But both are still, a painted scene,
A moment quiet and serene.
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