Midmonde

With Heaven in heaven

And hell beneath Rome

Pray tell, where it is

That your soul now calls home

?

^

Midmonde is the premise of purgatory

Held here as a concept, a structure anew,

A joke with vast punchlines, a blithe worldview

^

In light of past cultures, the angels and vultures

Consider how little we all really knew

Those Devilish bastards, they’ve stolen our hue

^

What you are,

what you crave

Thy bloodroots rot in sickly enclaves

^

Golden thread held aloft helps the wayward stand tall

Hey Father, who were you 12 before the Fall

Share thy Kalpic tale, how much can you recall?

~

Recount what you found in a daedalflake’s kiss

Woe cruel agonies to the dying star’s bliss

Rye sterile scent heralds compendious springs

While staccato alarms the city bird sings

~

If Truth flows like honey along sacred wire

Curious then, how our halo gets tired

Hope is a goat with a discordant Lyre

Pray that this world never loses its fire

~

Highviolet stillness let patterns secuestré

In motionless courts, I call myself jester

Then privately shatter til no damwaters fester

Am I not, after all, the king’s heartpoison tester?

~

Since first breath inquested, relentless, thy soulspur

You asked for a hero?

I stand at my best, Sir.