The Diamon and the Pyre

Beyond the field of barley,
where the truth bends and 
my sorrow begins
a vision of the only tree
that truly lived
is swarm of light
trapped in prism of lies 
honing above 
the very heaven that had
drawn with a diamond from your mind
Once red, once blue, 
can't really decide
if I must go with you
to watch a dance of lust
below the mountain,
beneath the light
that you promised to Joan of arc
the one you took back with her heart
full of love, full of regrets
written in blood dripping from
her wooden cross burning on her chest
as she rose above the tainted truth
dangling in the mouth of the badgers
dressed in white, telling lies,
even long before she took her plight