Bashing back the darkness,
Like Prince Phillip hacking
Rose bushes with a double-edged sword.

The sleeping-curse is thick and groggy
And the castle tower impenetrable to all
But the dirty tangle-hair within.

Young men are too self-indulgent to storm
Even their own castle-sized obstacles;
Friends and family are similarly swaddled in their dreams.

Sick sleeper, trapped by autumn’s gloom,
The nation’s Dark Age,
And the never-ending shattering of hearts.

Only by igniting her soul-light
Can she retreat from Aurora’s coma-tower;
Can she awake to internal spring.