Division

In this division I find unity. The common bond twitching in its flesh for release into the spurious infinity of creative space begs on its knees for the umbilicus to be cut. So we are raised and fallen by what we are and what we do. In our deepest yearnings for something more we can become cannibals of our own inbred societies. I have become wanting of the light recently and I wonder what if I could do some good with this thing I possess inside me, this heart, this mind, this soul. Could I love and be loved? I cannot sacrifice my essence yet I feel a sense of remorse for some of my venom. I cannot believe the forgiveness of others. I cannot comprehend why they tolerate me. In this division I am not alone, not as alone as I thought. Yet the chasm yawns before me as I hurtle bodies into the unforgiving deep of what was once my imagination. Lost to the feeling of completion I am nothing unless I am being ripped apart. I cannot play the healer, always the torn. My eternal role. My fate. I pray the promise is true and my work is only just beginning and while the word 'Therion' sighs like the wind in my ears I hope my dreams do not die.