Ostracized as we are with God, the watchers of the civilized wastes reverse their signals on our track. Lepers of the moon, all magically diseased, we come among you, innocent of our luminous sores. Unknowing how perturbing lights our spirit on the passion of Man, until you turn on us your smooth fools' faces like buttocks bared in aboriginal mockeries
We are the sacerdotal clowns who feed upon the wind and stars and pulverous pastures of poverty. Our wills are formed
by curious disciplines, beyond your laws. You may give birth to us, or marry us; the chances of your flesh are not our destiny ---
The cuirass of the soul still shines ---And we are unaware if you confuse such brief corrosion with possession.In the raw caverns of the Increate we forge the dusk of Chaos to that imperious jewellery of the Universe
--- the Beautiful ---
While to your eyes
A delicate crop
of criminal mystic immortelles stands to the censor's scythe.
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