chant

 

building in the lusted past is an alchemy of purified desire
pulsing with anticipation altering every minute honesty
it collides with what was and what will be

malicious understanding drinking from the fount of deep seeded need
craving an unveiling of pivotal and scathing brutism
born of ego and directed by blood
a whirling turmoil of faith changing the direction of the winds

come little wonderer and tell me your name
I can not tell you in truth because it is written on my pneuma and it is sacred
culminating and combining what people so carelessly cast off
I am the collector of keys

I walk in between worlds gathering the barren souls
so exquisite with need they glow indigo
filling them with the beauty of past lives
the unique sacredness that in a foolish desire to blend in others left
I combine with love and soul a newly formed being
on point with the elements they flow seamlessly with the venom of the world

an enigma to some you may hear their enchanting call
but make no mistake they are not for you they are for those up to a challenge
because in their thrall you may lose yourself utterly