And Quenched Be They

In shimmering darkness and
Silver silky moonbeams
In the heralding of sin' s delight
His beckoning
Called her soul.
She ran to Him
Pleading for requite
To still her weary winds of restlessness
And cradle her shattered fabric
To touch her deepest desires
And deliver her shameless
And depraved.
To mark her in His consumption
His sated savagery
And quenched be they
In fantastic stillness.