The writer of the first word

Not the writer of the last

With the terror of the light

And the shadow cast


The third eye now opened

To project the night

This is the moment

To write


This is the ritual

To lead you on

Your friends will meet him

When you are gone



Lost on the shore

Between the forest and the ocean

The owl and the deer

Reflected in motion


In his room, he will hurt her

In hers, he is caught

His story ends

Her story does not


This is the ritual

To lead you on

Your friends will meet him

When you are gone


A pale balloon in the sky

Float and sink deeper

Night springs when bright

Falls for this sleeper


The surface disturbed

The reflection now a traitor

In the cavity of the skull

Turned to a crater


This is the ritual

To lead you on

Your friends will meet him

When you are gone