REFLECTION
He whispers: Through the looking glass
I am rapture. Angel's rage.
Rewritten here. In benediction
I find rebirth in sterile age.
In self-made prison, bruised and empty
Announced in flickering words of hate
Comfort denied. He crafts homecoming.
Is sacred here. Inviolate.
Call him lord. Call him seducer.
Believe the lies he shapes so well.
Never gaze beyond the mirror:
See only artistry of hell.
Here. Candescent. Pure as knife-edge.
Glitters in coma, colors trance.
Here. Elegant in resolution
Wears shallow scars as black romance.
This is his sanctuary. Gehenna
Digital: remade and sane.
Beauty, at last, in hard-wired edges
Reflected love. Perfected pain.
Redemption. Through the looking glass.
A scream of ego, rendered free.
In unseen worlds, no words unspoken
Whispers: I love. Sweet liberty.
copyright: angel, november 1998