About the miserably transient feeling of dominance one gleans in their spiritual struggles, somewhere between the dark night and shallow dawn.
in the beckoning twilight I find the darkness
lax and lazy, complacent, satisfied
loose it reigns, a careless abandon
and I laugh, I laugh and cry
how I found God in a khlysti sermon
so soft and weak, so pale like moonlight
dough between my fingers
a pampered darkness scarcely bleak
gone and away the weight from my chest
the laughing, cawing turns to me
I see myself in me
every vein a hissing snake roaring
shrieking backwards up Yggdrasil’s spine[…]
Poem: Catharsis — The Sperg Box
Vermont Folk Troth 