Narcissus had vanity, Lucifer, pride
but what do you see when upon me you spy?
Mistrusted, unworthy, by spirits possessed,
I open myself to your gaze nonetheless.
A creature of darkness who waits for night's fall,
when Hecate's moon holds all Earth in her thrall.
You seek me in shadows, your judgment to lend
upon one who refuses the mercies you bend
into tyranny's noose, upon broken knees fall
and pray now for the mercies of Fathers of auld.
Black artless child crying out to the light
of the one Fallen Star, twin to my plight
reflected in shards of infinite mirrors
with a glow as sullen as crimson tears
drawn from pale skin by the cruel, tainted lash
of memories so painful that none but the brash,
bastardized priest
would dare to invoke them, phallus in hand,
twisting my will to his dark command.
In agonied pleasure my screams rend the night,
seducer of angels now held for delight
of a mortal so common he credits the fall
of the Great One himself to his candlelit hall.
He plunders the goddess, the moon hides her face
her cold light seeping from this place
of unspeakable torture by a priest who still scorns
the fearful wrath of the Never-born.
Secure in his holiness, righteous and true
he extracts my confession from lips pallored blue.
Witch he would name me, strumpet and whore
and a thousand more blasphemies ripped from the core
of my soul to accompany my heartrending shrieks
while throughout the ordeal the priest himself reeks
of deeds so much darker than any I've done,
eclipsing his soul as the moon does the sun,
that I laugh at my pain and my spirit is freed.
Into dreams of my true lover's arms I now flee.
To where jealousy dwells not and free love abounds
far from the eyes of sick clergy who hound
those who's beliefs they never will share,
he who confuses possession with care.
His insatiable member becomes now the tool
of my true love and so shall the priest become fool.
So I welcome my fate, by his hand signed and sealed
that one bit of power he thought he could wield
to extinguish the fire that burns deep within
that wantonness he calls the root of my sin.
For if lust be the verdict, sex be the crime,
I am guilty of wanting.
Condemn me to die.
 
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