The legacy has closed.
The ominous chamber surrounded in shadows
Hallows the sickened likeness
Of an effigy of Christ,
Long lost
In an immaculate imitation
Without soul.
The wizard has found the catalyst,
And the healer had brought it to the masses,
But in their ignorance
They found not the promised favor
Of the almighty father
But rather
A sore heart beating in a broken breast.
We are not alone.
But within the shambles
Of the self same place we sought to inhabit
We are rendered to our
Constituents, elementally fundamental lordlings
Parodying the silly pomp of the classes we sought to ostracize.
I was not born to that likeness.
I am a child of god, or a god,
Or maybe merely the universe
A corpuscle of sense
In an intelligent arrangement the cosmos had with the void,
Ever evolving.
Be I a pawn, I am nothing
But as a I child, I contain the infinite
In no small relation to the parables of teachers.
Innocence reminds the intellect
Of the journey that unmakes the animal.
We are a hope and a prayer,
The remainder of sense almost spent
In the grappling for some solid sameness.
We can unravel our arrangement.
We are not simply spirit striving,
We are not only body yearning,
We are love, armed to continue an embrace
That shudders in every sound wave moving matter.
For in black we find all,
And in white we find peace.
But in our rage we find meaning
I cannot make it out
But it is there.
Deliver us from the daily droll headlines
Of sallow prose and hark to the flavor
Of deep remembering.
Challenge your soul to recall what bonds it allowed in compromise for safe passage
And liberate your own dear self.
Our beasts are our treasures,
And the birds are our dreams.