Succulent, golden honey accumulates
Makes me boil, makes me assimilate
Crimson rivers fuse within me
Reflecting my life with divinity.

Dancing ember snowflakes crackle
And keep me frozen in place
As the dry wind swirls about my face
All regrets it did erase.

There is a sound in the silence,
That beats with an utmost violence.
A rendition of itself, it becomes a dance.

A dance intertwined with the rhythm of time,
Even a dance has to come to an end.

Amber robed seas are glazed with light
That gives false hope, of vitality, of life.
The patterned Emperor, the king of the sands
Granted me a gift
Then emptied the life from my hands

I hold hands with the night now,
It is ever so comforting

Living here in the dark now
With my harbinger,
the Black King.

Savannah B. Chapman is a sophomore majoring in Computer Arts. A passionate adventurer, she hopes that her art will set the world on fire. “Succulent Honey” was inspired by her Art History class at SVA.