Death peered through the window pane and saw a glimmer move through the tops of trees that had just started their new life cycle of fresh, green growth.
She could smell the orange citrus blossoms singing their love song in the air, a come hither with a promise of sweet nectar. There was something hidden and yet on parade, a love of life and the knowing of her name, Death on display.
A scene to see, Death desired a look closer and flew in her wild skin one foot on a dove the other the wind. Dive into a spiral she did through time as she watched the space take place; this belief then that one then yet another and again all one when read together, but more there was when spun just right.
Her black cloak covering her shoulders, her black and white oxfords tied tightly to her feet to ground herself to terra, Death found herself on her knees at the Cathedral of Saint Mary by the See, other names it once was and will be, ashes in her palm of a time here and still gone but still in beat with the bells and whistles, timing just right. In names it will be: Roman Hispalis, Visigoth Spalis, in Truth they call, "claim in Gods name" and claim some more Ishbiliyah, In the cause of God, it would be. Hisbaal, a great plain it's always been, in Gods name can't you see, B[a]t, hey, yah
Death walked the streets and held the hands of long the dead of the old faith they lived as she listened to their tired voices through time.
She saw Scipio Africanus during the Third Punic war when the Roman citizens had had enough and no matter the surrender, elimination for most and slavery for the few when Carthage was once something and then it would not.
Trajan was birthed here and a few years after Jesus was crucified, Julius Caesar declared Hispalis a Colonia, a tiny Rome separate it would be.
The Arabs came when it was a Visigoth place, and a caliphate happened, a moment in time of 712 it was still a Roman city of beauty, is there ever real peace. Of course inside help they had and bred well and smart they did and time would remind the people through signs of the right track in the city streets of Gods land, for a prophet was raised and another been born, a new religion, a new phase. One that would not forget the past of not just the cross raised but above their heads they carry the Mother too.
Death watched time unfold
as she walked the streets
of an oasis of Gods love
there she reached and stepped across
and found the See
an empty vessel
no water of life
the touch of death
is the way
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