Letter To The Exiles The Greater Hands Of Lesser Sons
With the devil at my back,
giving lies in the form of dreams. Unfinished.
With a heart unfinished, a body undone.
Never hearing a voice or the sound of moving steps.
Living life like a sickness,
I let the cancer increase.
This is how the venom works.
'You are so broken' that's what you said to me.
This is restless sleep.
These are prophets' dreams.
So when I wake what will I see,
the image of a madman before me or some holy presence?
Make us calm! Amongst us: a remnant of what was.
I hear the fall in the sound of walking away
with the devil at my back giving lies in the form of
dreams.
This is the recollection of what I used to be,
but as it stands this is who I am.
All my wanderings to no avail, risen now, not called to
mourn.
The sight arrested, suspended in my mind, the image of a
madman before me.
Where there is nothing Spirit now create!
