outfoxing the furies
Fluid the medium by which we desire,
Heavy the limits from which we aspire
To lift ourselves free on the wings of a dove
To practise perfection by drinking his blood.
The illusion of earth is splintering fast
We grab at the air, as we fall at the last:
Witchery, Witan, Wicca and Wizard
Pursuing the furies is why we are feared.
Opening spaces and stretching out time
In a flurry of words, at thirty a dime.
We walk through the air as we glance at the heights,
Sublimity scares us like the darkness or light:
In this cauldron of water, fire, earth and air
See! The silent assassin is everyfuckingwhere…