The Chain Of Sati

By Angel Singh

The Night's Bride in Silver Flow,

Descends into aisles where silence grows.

Skin in bondage of Sati's chain,

Her breath not hers, nor silence her own.

A mild hum of flare in the obsidian canopy,

Her gaze was captive to Artemis' fading symphony.

Moon's eye could devour the celestial realm,

What ignition stirred in that helm?

The serpent that fails to cast its skin,

Must encounter termination as night begins.

He who recoils from being Abyss,

Is certain to cross paths with Anubis.

For the turning geoid decrees,

An element outweighs a woman's breeze. 

At this hour, she finds obscurity,

Within the burning complexity.

By Angel Singh