Feathers made from blood

There is only that moon. A love to lie still for. A mother and a guide. There is only that way in which my body will follow. A path in the dark. There is only the familiar shape. Ever folding and unfolding to tell the time of journey. I struggle with my lack of full appreciation for Her. What more can I give as sacrifice? My body is yours. My soul you keep. My heart and mind you control. I am but a tool in your lovely workings. Desire? What would I know of fire? The world will end in ice. Balance? You keep me tilting on my scale for strength. Love... There is no love, there is music. Play please, my rhythm, my strings, my brass, and my wind. I will enjoy the chorus of your light for eturnity. Give only what you can. I will be grateful. I am in your hands and on your mouth. Whisper but a kiss and poison me into sleep. I bleed from my eyes and choke on you. My breath is but fog but my voice is a ring in darkness. The bird flys and black feathers are worn in remembrance as the clock ticks the Witching Hour...