The clouded side of fear
I
came from the clouded side of fear.
Bloodied in the tantric traumas of forgetfulness,
protected by savage howling bitches,
I was beaten, rutted - essence of a life, crispy freedom, writhing strength
-
all sucked from me until I could remember -
no more!
They
laughed as they gouged out all of my eyes - bar one.
Like tutors they taught me to tie my own bonds,
the only 'freedom' I was offered
was the metallic bread and parasitic water of a shaven loner.
They instructed me to speak to no one,
and they 'blessed' me with protective barbed magick.
Not one creature would be allowed to draw near - and live.
I learned
all this from those seductive howling bitches,
until their evil smelling, dire sorcery made me believe
that even they no longer existed,
and my scraping chains were for my own good.
For the protection of my numerous lives
They set me 'free' to live in the village of the marching soulless -
and forget everything.
But
when there is a spark from the sun -
there is a lightly carved door to the other side -
of the clouded side of fear,
where there is an adventurers book of spells -
of undoing,
where to remember the movements -
of a once knighted prince,
where, hastely scratched in the earth, there is an untying -
of the necromancers riddled knot -
setting free the fragile heart beat, and the wild, passionate strength,
where there is the licking flame -
tantilising the trail towards the cliff edge -
the coming explosion towards the land -
I once remembered -
and owned!