UnHoly Alliances

Atop a hill , on a distant shore.. they all say the same thing

In the silence of this unholy night. Of the bliss which pours from the masters eyes. Foretell the same things.

Maybe I am not meant for such things. Like the fear of the fears.

And the sum which make me the center of all things of this unholy alliance.

Where the spirit gives itself up to the night. Where the family divulges, such minute details of its pain. That it surprises even me.

Where the taste mix with the pain . and the wolf of heart disappears into the mist

And eyes which beacon you In awe. I tell you about those. They are the things which I have made you out to be. In competition with others, we may never rise. And become what we set out to be.

Sometimes I can see things as they come toward or further away from me. Sometimes they take me completely by surprise. I prefer the latter as usual. And that’s no lie.

the Father and the spirit, conspire toward the creation of the holy ghost. In man it becomes a recluse, seeking fate at all costs, and this costs man his freedom.

And as this lies by my side, I am kept company by the silence of the serpents, on my sepulture. They hiss not, they strike not. They are in the ultimate repose.

All the misfortune I have brought upon myself is due to the grave I smashed in that old cemetery in that distant land so much away, that it seems too old to even be a memory.
That curse lives inside me, making me part of the unholy alliances.