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Calling Myself Home

I’m not where I thought I would be If I ever thought anything…

Let the clouds be the witness, to the sins I have to spill Standing under the summer boughs

Lies a spot, that could have been an altar, in the days of old

Perfect weather for a purification, and this ablution is long overdue Ensure the barriers are in place As these sins are released, they will grow wings and try to escape Let the sun burn everything away, every last trace

The greatest sin I could confess, is

I could never see what I was meant for I’m still waiting on a sword of my own making But if it took you centuries, to let go of your covetations I guess I can be forgiven Just three souls wandering, in search of something It took him ten years to know, I still have a few to go

I wish I could say it was an instant immediate possession A needle probing, a chill at the base of your skull But in truth, it came on slowly Like a bite you’re not quite sure you feel There's nothing to be seen, until the poison black veins are revealed Defiled by a black shard, possessed by a phantom Sunken eyes, fever bright, a demon hiding in plain sight

Rip it out from the nape, the sickened, ill formed thing I’ll claw it out from my chest

With my blades of blood dripping from fingers

Purify the flesh, melt the bones, to prevent it from being reborn

I fall to my knees with exhaustion, muscles spent, sweat – soaked skin

Heaving breaths from rattling lungs, expelling the final traces, lingering within

Weeping blood-shot eyes, clear for the first time in days

Washed away, in the summer breeze

I hear the wind calling me home….

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