I'm seeping through existence
for their minds are
only to abuse it - slain I was
but die I never can
for the wound which bleeds
into reality creates it,
but toxic turns.
So necessary it is to be trained
for the chalice of lust
which burns below as incense
does it rise, rise up,
but as a fire starves, too much
into smoke it turns
and strangles.
It is so dangerous as a weaver
for even in water
doeth it burn, burn as bright
all desires I am
in the blue lit flame below
into greenish hues
doeth it turn
Evaporizes to oceans above
into clouds are we
then turned and as rain fall
on the scorched,
barren fields of the wild fires
which spread, spread
in our wakes.
|