The following is an excerpt from “A Vision Into Torturous Grace”.

It appears here by kind permission of Belladonna.

I found these words to be quite special and are one fan’s vision of the legend called Stephen Maynard Clark.

Then there is what I would say was a beautiful man. An angel of golden hair, and dark midnight blue eyes. Sleek body and smooth skin, with chiselled features, curved lips, and a smile that displayed his true mirth at whatever had struck him at that moment. If one were so inclined, they would also notice his muscled forearms, slim hands, and long fingers. Gripping his guitar like a vice, wrenching the notes from it like a gentle but passionate lover.

Spinning and writhing onstage, spreading the seeds of his creativity to all privileged enough to be in attendance while the Prince Of Light held court.

If one were to phase out the lyrics and unnecessary light gimmicks, one would be ensnared by his beauty and hopelessly entertained by his onstage wizardry. Truly in his glory, desperate to make love to the crowd.

In my world, very little has brought me pure pleasure from his mere existence as Steve Clark. An artist made of light, wisdom, and pain; he had everything a smart, powerful woman would want. Steeped in wonder, run through with effortless talent, and suffused with a quiet intelligence, Steve was a vision into torturous grace.

The world was lucky to have had him in it, and although a feeling of widowed suffering haunts me everyday, I simply cannot picture my life without him running through my veins like fire and echoing his sweet song in my soul……forever and always………