The Kindred of the Eternal

The heart of Greshem
is warm,
though her skin be cold.

The heart of Greshem
yearns and breaks
that ye might be whole,
though her odor
is repellent.

The arms of Greshem
are strong
and constant
in their embrace,
though they be
full of sores.

The hands of Greshem
are gifted enough
to heal the whole world
of your misery,
though they be
rough
and chapped. ›

They weave and knead,
unbind and release,
comfort and assuage,
though their strength
may at times
frighten.

The lips of Greshem
are full and ripe,
rich with blessings,
overflowing with goodness,
though they be cracked
and bleeding.

The mouth of Greshem
speaks the words of truth
without flinching,
though being flailed
by maces
that tear her flesh.

The voice of Greshem
shakes the earth
as a lion
standing on the sun,
terrifying in its power,
though her body be
feeble
and decrepit.

The song of Greshem
is at first soft,
then moving,
tender and melodious
in its comforting
quaternions
of cadences,
though it be sung
out of tune.

The life of Greshem
will never end,
though it be beaten down
and crushed
with the weight
of the world’s hate,

for it is allied
with me,
and I will hold her forever
in my almighty hand.