The Queen of Babylon

When I came upon the ancient temple it was in a howling storm of a sand arid dust blinding me to everything I am   I had staggered across the thirsting deserts while dreaming of the water I held within my hand   And as the darkness sank engulfing every sandcastle built of promise I stumbled upon a doorway which lead me into the Temple of The Abyss   Brought before the golden halls dragged before a golden throne where sat the undaunted Queen of Babylon Babylon the Great   And while forced to kneel before her and give my thanks to sanctimonious alter I dared to raise my eyes and look upon her face   What do you seek here my weary traveler from the wastelands to this place if you bow before my ankle you must have the courage to accept my grace   So ask the Queen of Babylon the question on your lips and should those words be so contrite they must be uttered to my throne and to my everlasting worship   And so I asked the Queen of Babylon if love had been so abandoned did love no longer know what it was And as she raised her eyes so strikingly so desperate a gaze from a frozen soul as with these words she answered stabbed her icicle deep into my heart   Love is nothing but the trading of possession love is nothing but the exchange of emotional weapons a room full of broken windows the shattered glass on which you walk the eggshells of your complicity nothing but a broken dream beneath the feet of fantasy which you sell to purchase love and as you drown in its own delusion all love is an illusion the same fantasy of your freedom as you peer through the broken windows of your prison calling a shadow the epitome of liberty  Cold as ice the scorn within her eyes arid dust of the sands storm the empty hollow of the centuries which proclaimed and defamed the blood of Babylons royal seat   And upon the throne of Eden she deemed to be alone while denouncing and describing a paradise she believed she had come to own   And love was just a bargaining chip an unoccupied compassion for the price of love love was a fallen harlot as she sat upon its golden throne    And so to spite me for my question the great and terrible Queen of Babylon had me slaughtered in a pit has me hung upon her alter forever servant to abject worship and I pray in the golden halls while the screaming sandstorm rages on blinding me to everything I am  I staggered across a thirsting desert in a howling storm of a sand dreaming of the water I held within my hand