The Pilgrimage

The Pilgrimage
by Jonas Hyde
part 2/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In solitaire,
our seraph Sera lived in uncertainty,
walking this world alone,
shunned from He she wanted,
while ignored by man’s fraternity,
and the passing of time,
for seemingly an eternity.

Tho’ such infinite torture,
was simply not to be,
for on one gloomy eve,
steeples that ‘fore had been e’er dark,
lit for Sera to see,
an answer finally,
to her from He.

Soul afire,
careful and cautious she stepped,
entering His house,
and on knee she bent,
waiting for the secrets He kept,
but ‘pon not hearing His voice,
rivers of blood she wept.

“O’ Father hear my pleas,”
seraph Sera begged with a shout,
and tho’ she waited hours for reply,
it was but an angel’s breath,
‘fore His words finally rang out,
“Do not cry my dear,
your love for me I do not doubt.”

Light filled her soul,
‘pon hearing His tone ring true,
and for a long while they talked,
healing the wounds of their hurt
as only Father and daughter can do,
and when her apology was complete,
she hoped her damnation was through.

“The choice is yours,”
He spoke softly next,
offering her a chance,
to do His deed,
a trial e’er so complex,
to end the Tempter’s plague,
and cleanse the world of demons’ hex.

In that moment she said yes,
and her eyes of black were torn,
in exchange for the gift of Seraph’s Song,
and tho’ angel within may have died,
it is not our place to mourn,
for on that eve,
Sister Sera was born.

Fall from Grace

Fall from Grace
by Jonas Hyde
part 1/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In the beginning,
a line spoken so oft ‘fore,
yet the truth lie hidden,
on what happened the eighth day,
and since that time of yore,
as chanted near pillows of people’s,
is this seraph’s song e’vermore.

How she cries,
will make you cry,
for her loss,
her pain,
would surely die,
if it were not whispered on the ethereal winds
where fables will fore’er fly.

Many stories have been shared,
of the Tempter down,
shunned for his betrayal,
and with him,
legions of others pelted to the depths of darkened town,
like drops of sin,
as if tears from His sightless frown.

What fable oft lost since,
is of one seraph from heaven,
angel great,
who lost her wings,
not for single fault nor eleven,
as the one ‘fore her so well known,
but for exactly seven.

Now I know what thoughts you must have,
what light you would look with her ‘pon,
but judge not too quickly,
for her fall proved to be more lesson and test,
than penalty of death forgone,
as in His eye’s,
love never died on any dawn.

Veins of vice ran through her,
as tempest wind,
tho’ each balanced by virtue true,
so such was the battle for self and soul,
the eternal ebb and flow of life and sin,
a sign of humanity ‘fore man,
and proof of heavens long after faith rescind.

Seraph Sera,
of which this song was penned,
fell from grace for seven sins
long ‘fore this day
yet her tale there does not end,
for now she walks the lands,
as one among men.