"Seven."

I seek impoverished realms
take all I survey,
trample the tides of humanity
with the flame of wrath

dismember the vanity of every desire.

I peer into the void
my eyes full and green

watching,
waiting

wanting the congregation to hold me.

Their belief's rip the ether
open the door
empower all
with or without choice.

My spirit swells
carved with seven signs:

disciples

pulling every sinner
before 'truth'

my brethren.

I am not the number of the beast
nor God
whom glide effortlessly through lore
and 'dreams'

I am humankind

mirrored in every ill
thought conceived

the image I create
before you

as I unleash each darkened corner.

Faith

will draw it's final breath.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.