In the devout shadow, I pray to an unwelcoming God.
The lash of my presence disturbs Him, sinner that I am.
Through the threshold of my life, I awake with a new dream:
A vision of a saint pressed to change the agenda of all of
mankind,
To turn ash to air and to set free the maniacal love in a
form counter to the violence
That binds man to his unwelcome visions.
But there is no turning back from my visions now.
All of my lust and all of my knowledge is reflected in the
mirror
Which God holds,
And only through force of the will
Will the mirror be shattered
And my blood nourish the ever-thirsty ground.
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