The holy speaketh unto us..
But only through the veil
of the mundane.
But only as coincidence
detection.. in our brain.

It is a truth inaudible to most..
Insane to many others still.
Alas, ‘tis not thru ears of reason
that the elder gods make known
their sacred will…
But only as a skewed refraction
through a prism of The Poet’s heart.
But only as a dim reflection..
as a mirror image of The Poet’s art.

The Poet speaketh unto us
in tongues and riddles..
Ohh, he never keeps his story straight..
But then again,
the very same can just as easily be said
about the narrative..
so strange and crooked..
spun for us by fates.

“As the thread that binds us tightens..
To each other we draw nearer.”
Which sounds like nonsense..
oh.. so.. sweet and flowery
and vacuous..
to the ears of a true non-believer.
But to a keen, discerning hearer..
its sacred meaning
couldn’t be any clearer…