Tuesday, December 20, 2011

In Need of a Rite

Thou fallen one
creator of fear and misery,
why should you fall upon me
and sway me with your trickery?

You Balam, You Baal,
moans and groans, your crying
from being cast off
a mighty throne,
to frolic now in my bedroom,
in the shadows of a tormenting night,
against me who sometimes
lacks the will to fight?

Breathing whispers, ferocious rabid growls,
the hiss of the great Serpent
lying unseen and waiting
for me to lose all will and hope,
to take me over as your host,
You most vile of parasites

But I fear no longer,
and shall not be cast from my bed,
I shall stare Thee in the eyes
cry unto you "Demon! I will not go easy!"
for as I am created in HIS image,
so shall HE have power over YOU
albeit I am a great sinner,
HIS blood has washed me clean

O great tyrant, my body is but flesh
but my soul eternal belongs to another

© Antonio Beardall

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