'Rapture me,' you sang to me,
'Please succumb my soul from this wretched body.'
I apologized, and refrained from doing so.
'Apathy,' you explained,
'Is greater an opiate than religion.'
So you forged a letter to the mirror,
'Love always accompanies self deceit,' you sang.
And you forgot whom you were.
Like this, eternally,
Though not you cared.
Familiar you seemed to me,
If you grin, I’ll remember your name.
Eyes; sitting, waiting, timidly, cursing piously.
The grin came malevolently,
And the wings lacerated the air.
As my feet left the ground - it was I flying I found,
Finding words can be transformed to mirrors - puddles reflecting the sun, moon, and stars.
A Luminary.
But I am what I must be,
For I do not think,
It thinks me.
