My humanistic mind
Could not comperhend or hear it
The mystery of his kind
Nor the secret of his spirit
But was to write in morbid verse
In faith of being healed
From the never ending thirst
For the secrets he concealed
Until at last my pen was cursed
With the knowledge he revealed...

Deep within his dusty den
Beneath the lonesome pine
He listened to the howling wind
It's icy breath tapped his spine
And the restless howling wind
Blew into his mind
Was silent but to howl again
With the sorrow of my kind
The doors he dared not enter it
The stairs he's vowed to never climb
Become obsession to him then
He bound up them three at a time...

Drifting through mortal sleep
Like a star in the night
Eyes ablaze with with Qadosh heat
Of God's eternal light
Decending to the deepest deep
To soar above the highest height
I wandered straying like a sheep
And lonely as a kite
Across sandy dunes
Across a path paved in gravel
Into legionary tombs
In mystery too deep to unravel
There hidden in theses dusty rooms
A sleeping child that yearned to travel
I saw him in the spirit realm
This forgotton child of yesterday
Like a cheap and tarnished gem
In a casket he did lay
His body but a mummied stem
Trapped beneat the mud and clay
Yet I love and cherished him
In spite the process of decay...

His essence shuddered in alarm
At the specter by his bed
Whose neon eyes and silent charm
Betrayed her as the living dead
And the baby on her arm
Filled him with uncertain dread
Yet he knew she would not harm
A single hair upon his head...
He watched me like a spirit dreaming
In another place and time
And my eyes were soft and clinging
Around his body like a vine
Or a foreign sun whose beaming
Is an omen or a sign...

Reaching out I took his hand
And held it firmly in my own
And ask his soul to understand
That death was but a stepping-stone
And I held his fleshless hand
Held it firmly in my own
As I went on to command
Life restored to his bones
His screams came roaring like a tide
Between the heavens and the earth
And the baby on my side
Was none other than his birth
Torn from my bloody womb
Cut off from the mother vine
And hurled into a waiting tomb
Before the designated time...

I know he's gone yet somehow
He lingers like a summer rain
I hear him in the winds that howl
And rattle on my window pane
I feel a chill cross my brow
Before I hear him call my name
And crossing through the night I prowl
In the form of heat and flame
Swooping down in wisps of smoke
This childish phanthom to embrace
I find him huddled caped and cloacked
A wistful smile upon his face
A gentle ghost out to envoke
The love of God's amazing grace
With hands beneath hooded pockets
He stands silent and alone
Staring through empty sockets
With spirit eyes hard as stone
Then in a shower of rainbow rockets
He bursts into bits of bone
To become a memory framed in lockets
For the Master's view alone...

Like a cheap psychotic demon
I go howling to my den
There to lie forever dreaming
In limbo with my bloody pen
There to lie in silent screaming
For him to come to me again
With blood-stained verses streaming
Down my face and chin
And in my dreams so it seems
This childish Phanthom calls my name
Like a balm his voice redeems
Me from a world of fear and pain
As a light he softly beams
Through the realms of dark domain
Into a hell through spirit means
On soles of kitten feet he came...

Through the dark and mirrored glass
That reflect the living dead
Below the withered summer grass
Over-grown above my head
Through the dusty crypt to pass
Breaking through the spider's thread
With a single blow to crash
The vault around my satin bed...
From a cloud of smokey mist
This childish phanthom takes my hand
And grasp it in his bony fist
With the strength of mortal man
And flying through the crypt in bliss
That I do not profess to understand
We greet the sunlight with a kiss
As only firebirds can...

Work in process