I hear my name.
Spoken as the living wind
Anchored in your lungs, your voice.
Such sweet voice and vile, a tempting taunt
And blistering brand that is not taught
to soothe the fire ignited, flamed,
by the sounding
of my name.

Battle begins.

The touch of word on naked flesh
that sears, binds
and holds me still within the fields of astral tears
Captured to your needs, desires.
Desires that burgeon from the fleshly form
to flash of energy beyond the norm
in streaks of might, in blends that mourn
the loss of innocence

I whisper.
Subtle sounds twist the ties of captivity
Strong words, with meagre chords;
A shadow cleft in mind’s accord
To bring in thought, word, action, deed
And sprout the death of lustrous seed
which spills, awasted,
while purity bleeds.

Tonight the word is cold
Colder as my heart grows older
And paternal Godhead comes to end
Within this life,
this life
of mine.

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