The skeleton is scattered upon the old carpet.
The closet’s door is blown to shards,
and blood is splashed on the wall.
It trickles down to the spinning floor.
‘Twas I who dragged out the bones –
for retribution, for pain, for a love much higher than the taught self.
And I look at myself,
“Who shall hoist thee better than thyself?
Return to the earth
through the sacred fire of willful vision and rise, dear Phoenix!
Rinse the ashes off thy vibrant plumage,
and continue where the fight challenged thee last”.
I divorce from the ties that prevent me from living life.
I break the shackles that hold me afright.
I burn down the doubts and imbibe the tonic of courage at last.
I am free to fly and transcend all there is to find.
I am strong –
Sovereign of my life.
Fear or adore this force of magnitude eternal.
Cast a curse or soar the sky onto new adventure.
Behold me not with eyes so lachrymose,
for I am the scales that weigh the world.
The Hollow is conscious of thy triumphs and thy failures.
Embrace thy pain as it is joy of another nature.
Hosts act in decree of exacerbation and cessation
to further observation and renovation.
As god, thou art master of thy station.
As human, thou hast forgot the ancient power of sublimation.
I beckon thee to rise as I have bestowed unto thee foresight.
Get thee above the sands of this arid, vile land
that thou mayst tear down the illusions that constrict thy path.