Purified by the light of angels

singing the psalm

 of Leviticus.

Hounded by fire of angels

fallen,

chanting the words

of Satanus

 

The words appear upon the page,

involuntarily.

They write themselves.

They scream and shout with

pain and rage,

only to end up high

on dusty shelves.

 

Purified they are,

genuine and sincere

from Katheros, who lent them us

to keep safe.

From corruption and desire,

unstained by the guilt

of unholy fire.

 

For Eternity the battle will rage,

mortally grounded

in immortality,

and for many more years

of my age,

maybe I will be a casualty,

 

of Katheros and Satanus.

And find my place

on dusty shelves,

and wonder what is wrong with us

the human race.

Mere mortals,

who express themselves.