Wielding that draconian scepter, she descends from the stars-
Holding all we have to ransom: trading our mortal souls to the inferno of fear;
That distant fear, a feeling so pervasive yet laced in sepulchral darkness,
Its mysterious inception eludes all knowledge humanity may conjecture;
What awaits us, is the comforting recourse to faith.

With a flourish she reveals the scepter, holding our lives to sway,
A grip that transcends deep down-to the abysmal crypts of our existence:
A subtle chance of life; the furthest hint of reason
Failures and misgivings reign in her stead, the cruel embodiment of reality.

That shaft of divine light- it shatters to oblivion the overwhelming darkness,
A fortitude that we desperately try to control and counter;
Until she is what stands victorious- a pyrrhic victory that conquers
Colossal that she is:
Against the adversity of powerless humans.

Resigned as we are to an extraneous faith, through futile dreams we fight destiny-
Alter the course of reality, struggle as it engulfs us from every side;
Defeat was a foregone conclusion, as we reflect on the shackled rendition of life:
We see her ascend to the stars, her delicate hands grasping in a fierce grip
That cold, specter-grey scepter of reality.