Those Letters Never Measure

Worldling, you are my confession—

I’d like to have a word with the man in the sea

when you sing your kyries don’t sing them at me

Dry throated dream, you test my patience

with your pageantry and your killing spree

each—each—each—

I didn’t know how to speak

Your shadow swallows words like

snake jaws so immune to moderation

skin and stone, sit and roam

I’ve given the nod, please take me home

ohm mani padme ohm

Um mani padme um

Our Father, with heart of seven

hollow be thy shame

Thy kingdom won, 

thy will be, will be—

we’ll be old one day

What can you say to me then

that hasn’t already been said?

It’s been a year, 

I’ve folded myself into a sigil 

Those letters never measure

what matters meant to me

they busted lust in Boaz

and on the shores of Galilee

Working magic, bread and fish

even Jesus made a wish

And when the night grew tired

You stripped bare the sacred flaw

but your hair against the hearth-flame

was the most perfect sight of all

what little heart we muster

thunders on the deep

I hear it every morning

and before I go to sleep

© James Cole, 2019

Chaos magic sigils
by Rune370
from Wikimedia Commons