Mission

Molten steel is what I wish to pour upon the gray confusion of the stubborn, blinding gall inside me. I want to see the mountain tremble, to hear the roaring nether earth assert its consciousness, to join the yeomen of the mind who travel on the higher ground of light. I want to call the seraphim from out the East and taste upon my lips, refiner's fire, to sing the Wisdom choruses the prophets heard. Let me engage the beasts of reticence, the somnolence of hordes bemired in hedonistic clay. Let me cry out upon the day, a sanguine joy in triumph over lassitude and conquerors and endless kingdoms of desire. There waits within, a firey page that cannot be consumed, inscribed by messengers who having heard the throbbing song, will fly through time with me announcing with a spirit grace mortality eschews, the stunning news of love. ~