• Poem - Spiritual Musings

    The mirror that is not.

    Oh, how the horrors we seduce.

    With flame lips lies that reel in a reality

    that burns the last vestiges of the mind.

    The lips sing of flame and lies, dancing

    in ecstatic cinders.

    The mirror to the world,

    all that is seen is these seductions.

    Each in to dance and play with demons,

    of their own making.

    The daemons of old, Shemayaziqim,

    the iggigi, who sided with people,

    knew too well the seeds were not theirs.

    They knew,

    The father of lies were not among them.