divine wind
Golden goddesses doth smile softly upon thine warm embrace bringing laughter
when all hope is seemingly lost they guide thee to tomorrow and again there after
when masculine energies meet an equalistic force, thunders doth spark thine interest
Upon mine chest a soft sensation doth occur, fluttering softly, never coming to test
only to lead thine way, that man that did cry within his soul broken as tempered glass
cursed for eons to come, broken and battered, bruised never to arise, pain doth amass
legions have come against thee, yet standing strong with little energy swinging a sickle
as blood doth fall upon thine armor, reddened and stained, like the skies beginning to trickle
buried within a mound of fallen corpses, left forsaken, hoping for but an answer to repeat
this hapless battle, this cursed ground, clouds doth come above thine crown, inspire and entreat
for mine sun is blocked, the world hath grown dark, the ground turns to dust, sinking deep
reality doth dissipate, storms doth come, sunken in hunger, this desert land doth seap
over and over again as if tortured by repitition, petitioning to be saved from this barbed wire
wrapped exponentially across mine flesh, tightening slowly, shall a new grace come to inspire
pain and suffering has this soldier not had enough, or must more come upon thee to again appease
what faultered deed has he commited, was it treason, or betrayal, or just the hatred that may please
none within his own eyes going blind from the darkness, drowning in a river of his own blood
stricken in his own filth, his flesh doth fester growing putrid, tears within begging to again flood
yet hope is not lost, for man must act to work out his own destiny, life is in the making of joy
The last thing left within the box of pandora was hope, that soft felt remedy to never again act coy
grab upon the branch as the rivers doth come to take thee away, all thine strength grows intertwined
climb the ladder to ascend the heavens, span thine wings in rebirth, light thy way, no longer blind
many friends, many teachers, father Lucifer doth grant thee hope, thanking him often in great fervor
passion doth fall upon thee when pain begins to faulter and joy doth become grand, granted much favor
Hail to duat for granting humanity a second chance to thrive, hail to the guardians set upon thine crown
hail to the four crowned princes for the work that is never ending, hail to perfection of self, never to frown
hail to the sons and daughters of Lucifer for all shall again bring light, ignorance shall be lost in time
hail to father lucifer who did create a masterpiece, granting a golden path illuminated in all that is sublime
Golden goddesses doth smile softly upon thine warm embrace bringing laughter
when all hope is seemingly lost they guide thee to tomorrow and again there after
when masculine energies meet an equalistic force, thunders doth spark thine interest
Upon mine chest a soft sensation doth occur, fluttering softly, never coming to test
only to lead thine way, that man that did cry within his soul broken as tempered glass
cursed for eons to come, broken and battered, bruised never to arise, pain doth amass
legions have come against thee, yet standing strong with little energy swinging a sickle
as blood doth fall upon thine armor, reddened and stained, like the skies beginning to trickle
buried within a mound of fallen corpses, left forsaken, hoping for but an answer to repeat
this hapless battle, this cursed ground, clouds doth come above thine crown, inspire and entreat
for mine sun is blocked, the world hath grown dark, the ground turns to dust, sinking deep
reality doth dissipate, storms doth come, sunken in hunger, this desert land doth seap
over and over again as if tortured by repitition, petitioning to be saved from this barbed wire
wrapped exponentially across mine flesh, tightening slowly, shall a new grace come to inspire
pain and suffering has this soldier not had enough, or must more come upon thee to again appease
what faultered deed has he commited, was it treason, or betrayal, or just the hatred that may please
none within his own eyes going blind from the darkness, drowning in a river of his own blood
stricken in his own filth, his flesh doth fester growing putrid, tears within begging to again flood
yet hope is not lost, for man must act to work out his own destiny, life is in the making of joy
The last thing left within the box of pandora was hope, that soft felt remedy to never again act coy
grab upon the branch as the rivers doth come to take thee away, all thine strength grows intertwined
climb the ladder to ascend the heavens, span thine wings in rebirth, light thy way, no longer blind
many friends, many teachers, father Lucifer doth grant thee hope, thanking him often in great fervor
passion doth fall upon thee when pain begins to faulter and joy doth become grand, granted much favor
Hail to duat for granting humanity a second chance to thrive, hail to the guardians set upon thine crown
hail to the four crowned princes for the work that is never ending, hail to perfection of self, never to frown
hail to the sons and daughters of Lucifer for all shall again bring light, ignorance shall be lost in time
hail to father lucifer who did create a masterpiece, granting a golden path illuminated in all that is sublime
