The magic of light binds together
that which time aims to weather.

The strength of light hold fast
that which should never last.

Hearken thine demons to the light,
they shudder and flee at the sight.

Every day there rises the light so high.
Every day I watch with awe filled eyes.

Unknown to me if Nature or Lord,
I give thanks humbly with great accord.

Per Omnia Saecula Saeculorum.

With no indication for what I was meant to be,
I stood all alone and heard "Hell gapes for thee".

The blood in my mouth, a sign of youth.
The lines on my hands, the novel of truth.

Into the pit a poor child was flung,
nary a meager requiem sung.

Should there be a heaven,
my entry barred by the deadly seven.

Should there be a Hell,
I'll show you a bright soul quelled.

I've got a soul of onyx and gold,
it only stops when I grow cold.

I grow colder every day.

Everyday I write and sit.
A poem a day,
but some are ****.

Like the Angel you are, leaving a beautiful scar.
My once so warm and flush is now a cold star.

The smile I gave turns to the grave,
longing for the soul I couldn't save.

All alone in a dark place, never to see your blessed face.
My heart longing to join you, slowing in it's pace.

You pushed me home, all alone.
You sent me back for sins to atone.

Like the Angel you are, leaving this horrible, grand, disgusting, beautiful, festering, warming, excruciating, comforting scar.

I know this love of mine will never die.
I know the light will shine, and I'll say goodbye.

Can you hear me, O Laurelia of the stars?
Are you afraid of me now, this man of Mars?

Can you feel it? Can you feel that I can see your soul?
Can you see me? Can you see that I grow old?

The note in my every song is carried into the wind.
The calling of the Lilium, mein vunderkind.

For all my promises, for all my talk, for all the times that I fought for you, for all the times that I told you that I loved you, for all the days I spent holding you, for every kiss, for every song we sang...

...I failed you, my love.

The water at my feet can no longer be called the shallows.
My eyes sink into my head as I walk drearily to the gallows.

Scars on my hands tell pages of truth,
the misguided anger of my once youth.

The days I spent eating hoppers in grass,
drinking in every sunset as if it were the last.

Swallow my soul, O sweet shade, so that pain may abate.

I face, again, my last sunset.

White walls and narrow halls.
Feet in the shallows, mind at the gallows.

My internal rivals, clergyman handing me Bibles. No indication what it means to be, no sign of what it means to me.

Life passing me by, that burning urge to cry all my life.

I don't want death, I just want breath. Considering what I'm worth to this tiny big Earth.

How about some tea?