"Footsteps in a Gothic Cathedral"
Admission,
inclusion
in the fire, in the soul
of one
with black lips
speaking prophecies.
The crypt,
the birth
of a new nature
dwelling latent
within the words
I scribe
with shaking hand.
What will be born
from this creation,
what have I made?
A demon,
an angel,
a self
even more terrifying
than the mirror image
which sang to me
the damning lullaby
from the first.
Prayers from the saints,
statues collecting dust,
to a god
who so often
fails to hear me,
fails to hear,
fails me...
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