The luminosity breaks my cage of crepuscule as the vociferous symphony of the media obstruct the clang of injustice. A thousand eyes glare at Lucifer yet neglect the vision of purity as their hand points with each finger a spindle establishing a cloak made of stigma. The cloak, an item I am now constricted in, is in completion as the gates stance creates a void soaring over me to which I am absorbed - as on the other side lies the devils crooked tune whilst God strums the chords.