She was once made of light,
ethereal and bright.
Her smile could calm a war,
a radiance that could not be ignored.
With robes woven a silky hue,
as soft as the sky was blue.
With one look upon her face,
one saw beauty, strength, and grace.
On her hip she wore a sword,
to strike down the evil hordes.
When she wielded this blade,
an enemy of the dark she was made.
Her eyes glowed a powerful jade.
Her hair was thick as forest trees,
black as oil, it hung to her knees.
It gleamed in the light, moved easy in the breeze.
Her wings were a silvery grey,
they embraced the divine when they prayed.
In her Lords' grace was she,
Rebekah the angel was not yet the Rebecca to be.
| Wow... That's really all that can be said. I loved it. Especially the fact that it leaves room for interpretation at the end as to why she fell.||| Posted on 2005-04-19 00:00:00 | by Dream shadow | [ Reply to This ] || It seems to me that you posted these poems in the wrong order. This on explains that she was something else, you then go about desribing her atire. But she uses her blade with ease and she then is transformed into something darker,and at the end you say she is not done transforming. this is not the rebecca to be.|
|| Posted on 2005-06-22 00:00:00 | by Brack-Attax | [ Reply to This ] |