Sibyl's Clan

Fleeing through the scorching snow,
Past land above and sky below,
A longing rises just to know
The peace of her embrace.

Through rising rain I stumble on,
The icy sun's unwilling pawn,
Drifting toward the fading dawn,
Where surely she must wait.

Ahead I sense a darkened light,
A symbol of her gentle might,
And to my dysphoric delight,
Her shape appears ahead.

Eyes shut tight, I see her face.
My slowing heart begins to race.
The perfect image of disgrace
Stands before me now.