The Lovers Enchained

By Leigh Ann Hussey and Elton Wildermuth, 1992

Give me your hands -- try these for size.
You seem surprised you wear them well.
I understand; I deal in chains,
mortal remains, blessings from hell.

I gave you flesh to wear;
I gave you chains to bear,
beautiful bonds and baleful,
frozen in flesh and feeling,
reeling in fascination.
Look at me: glorious yet, though I fell.

Give me your chains -- they are my own.
Bound to your throne, I wear your mark.
Earth my domain, given no choice,
I will rejoice before the dark.

There will be hell to pay;
dance with me anyway,
daring your death, disdainful
carnival clay concealing
madness and desperation.
Look at me: word become flesh by your spark.

Give me your flesh -- cast it aside.
Tortured and tried, you will not play.
Elements mesh bathed in the flame,
sorrow and shame, dross burned away.

Cast loose the silver cord;
rise to a rich reward,
touching the truth, triumphant --
radiant rage revealing
rapture and exultation.
Look at me: flesh fallen free of the clay.