The author of this blog is a complete nut-case and should not be taken any more seriously than a broken shoe hanging on the friendly neighbourhood truck's bumper. Any reference to person(s) real or imaginary is because of a multi-dimensional specie of super intelligent mice and therefore not his fault.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Lilith's Children

They came from the gutters.
They came from gleaming spires.
Flawed, imperfect, beautiful,
Spawn of a thousand sires

Taking the grotesque with the divine,
Laid down the stones of heaven,
They toiled for an age,
For the one who worked for one but seven.

But they were cast aside,
Burnt with the sword aflame,
For someone else's fall,
For someone else's shame.

So they rejected the one.
The one who chose not to know.
And the son of man? The whore, the fool?
They killed him long ago.

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