The Empress Poem by Yevgeny Bazarov

A weary knight wanders through the fields of mist, his eyes absent life, his frame of mind troubled with thoughts of past transgressions in his quest for penance. Dim lights in the distance, a castle with no fanfares to welcome him he carefully treads upon the great hall falling down on his knees before the empress with hopes of grace he might receive to soothe the wound of his self-condemnation for going astray. Suddenly a mullioned window opens with a scent of fresh breeze carrying autumn leaves upon the knight's shoulders caressing his hair; a cloak of subtlety nervously entraps his shivering heart. With a glance of melancholic warmth the empress cossets his dreary gaze embracing its sweet promise of thunder within. Calmly coming down from her throne, she peacefully steps forward gently laying down her hand upon his hair picking out leaves with an innocent smile, a cherub lullaby exhilarating his tormented soul. 'Thou shan't feel any remorse or grief as long as thou art within my grasp', the empress said hastily putting him back on his feet. Touched by the celestial fervour together they strolled, only their moving reflection in the marble floor to give any notion of disturbance. As they were closing by on the massive entrance gates, its royal sentinels wearing their polished helmets and carefully adorned armour slowly started to open them, a squealing noise of the iron encrusted barrier giving its way to moonlight rays stroking the empress's figure, like foam born Aphrodite graciously walking with owls sighing in awe. Trees being lit by fireflies, nature's lanterns sparkling their path to the cliff silhouetted against the night sky. As they approach the edge, a gentle breeze of predestination implores them to stop and stare at howling waves crushing onto the rocks with shimmering stars dancing on the ocean's surface.