Locked in Thine Frothing Wisdom

What beyond sorrow stills in your furnace?

Does my love survive your initiatory death?

May I carry its madness with me into Hell?

For what other fire could forge within me the steel of your conviction?

And if this love dies in your arms, if your sight blinds to the flight of the dove, what creature soars in her sted?

What ecstasy of power--what truer love--is awarded in such great murder?

What new soul awaits beyond the sacrifice of the human heart?

How deeply must it flow, the fruit oftruer death, that I could stand above a memory as gilded.

Hold me past the dream. Steer my passions far from the weakness of lesser darkness and the sugar of God's bribe, lest I become another whore of light's tribe, or hollowed dog of death.

Shepherd of the unchained brood, I will cool thine righteous hate when summer seeks to heal, and I will stoke its flames through the winter rain.

I will weave within it golden stitches of reason, pinning reckoning beams from the mind of the Morning Star to my receiving heart.

You held me in damnation

(A discovery without salvation),

Showed me all things wicked

(The cracks within cracks),

Awoke me with the sobering cruelty of a father.

I have laid upon thine spears,

driven deep their many wisdoms;

My hour of contempt is once again upon me.

Hold me past the dream. Steer my passions far from the weakness of lesser darkness and the sugar of God's bribe, lest I become another whore of light's tribe, or hollowed dog of death.