In a few months I was departing, But you went and got there before me, Leaving the roads with a different echo, And while I can be angry, At those who took unfairly, I'll just be happy to meet you in the next life, Where hopefully I'll be better.
In the place of those who take leave, Better things can be found, Such as when the rain comes; Summer bark may turn black, Yet alongside it, Colours begin to pop.
On a boring day, my addictions continue, Either taking me to lands-end, Or the minor details in-between, So whilst bound by life, I take the time, To rub wax; A way of preparing, For the sacred ritual, Blessed in oil, And summoned by a spark, That waits within me, Barely contained.
I've sat through the years, Who tormented at their leisure, My life I was too proud to end, Until spite came to lure me, And offer ideas of creation, That I alone would hear spoken, Soon after which came a day, Where I would ordain myself - a god: Knowing by heart, conception, Until… Continue reading Phantasy
Between day and night, Where life and death approach, Is a realm within the twilight, That suspends all but the perfect, Amidst a purple light, Which is both warm and cold, Knowing equal pain, and delight, For what can begin, Must also end.