Blessed Be
My art is my life.
This bowl of reckless strife.
Shed a little blood, but not a little light,
for I am at one with the night.
Endless answers traipsing through my skull
give way to Nature's eternal pull.
As the tides change,
so, too, do the seasons. Seasons of love.
Seasons of love and intense passion from above.
That wretched blade pierces my flesh, yet I do not die
I survive the Second Death
And so it begins once again, as my blood nourishes Mother Earth
It is I who becomes the substrate, the vehicle, for the next birth.
This bowl of reckless strife.
Shed a little blood, but not a little light,
for I am at one with the night.
Endless answers traipsing through my skull
give way to Nature's eternal pull.
As the tides change,
so, too, do the seasons. Seasons of love.
Seasons of love and intense passion from above.
That wretched blade pierces my flesh, yet I do not die
I survive the Second Death
And so it begins once again, as my blood nourishes Mother Earth
It is I who becomes the substrate, the vehicle, for the next birth.