I
die to love. It’s akin to prayer. And death is rich. The omen’s
Layer.
My hopeless dream, my waking pride, the devil’s joy,
My
bleeding side. And heart to God, a fervent ache, a touch of
Pain,
and bliss to fate. Thus we flourish, the death of life,
Fraught
with greed, and wisdom’s wife. My flaming gem,
Awake
the beast, and tame the lust, put breath asleep. Else
We
perish, a fatal scream, locked in dungeons, afraid to dream.
And
heart to sin, my plaguing thought, infused with gin, the
Omen
sought. And pulse to life, my dripping bane, suffused
With
myth, and demon slain. Thus the serpent, the heart of kef,
A
falling void, the life of death. And art to pride, a rising flare,
The
truth of love, and epic prayer. My distant star, alert the
Weeds,
for death is light, and mystic dreams. Thus we harness,
Our
sacred light, and ride the waves, of cryptic plight.
