Hecate's Kiss (04)
Like the echo of screaming voices
from the soundless abyss.
Plunged into dualism by these choices,
where predestined fates make all ideas just noises.
The beat of the heart keeps
the moon where ticks and pendulums
can not. Lady Miriah weeps
filling the desert with oceans, raising the tides.
Your blood knows, but has no memory,
it was ‘I am’ to my anscestors, it is
the ‘I am’ to me and my descendants.
Blood swells and heats my body,
a reminder, when I kiss
those lips of the voices
from the soundless abyss.
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