When I lift my head into its warm embrace,
And feel the awe that comes with power,
And thrill to see the shadows spill into my brain,
I whisper to myself:
'I am a mirror'
The mask is dedication,
It's an abstraction,
It is a richly figured drug,
And I work its work by throwing off all suppositions,
Notions I had had,
To steep my eyes in sentience not of Earth.
I cull the world you know!
I wield a serpent's tail!
I will the whir that burrs beneath your bones.
My headpiece will outlive me,
And I only do but what it says,
But its ochre grey rust that thicks onto my cheek,
Is worth any lifetime's suffering,
Only to feel it curve across my bones.
And feel the awe that comes with power,
And thrill to see the shadows spill into my brain,
I whisper to myself:
'I am a mirror'
The mask is dedication,
It's an abstraction,
It is a richly figured drug,
And I work its work by throwing off all suppositions,
Notions I had had,
To steep my eyes in sentience not of Earth.
I cull the world you know!
I wield a serpent's tail!
I will the whir that burrs beneath your bones.
My headpiece will outlive me,
And I only do but what it says,
But its ochre grey rust that thicks onto my cheek,
Is worth any lifetime's suffering,
Only to feel it curve across my bones.