Between the Demonic and Divine
{{{Dedicated to Patricia Ann and Kathryn Marie}}}
"Who's there?"
I can't quite make out the words or
the context within the overall discussion
but a ghostly recollection is in the voices.
Her inflection, her timbre, her lilt.
Its all so amazingly familiar, my sister
"Patricia, is that you?"
No response from beyond is received sadly.
Another voice is heard within the vast darkness-
the fiery red-head who was born last in our lineage.
But in these blackened hallways I see no one
however, these girls' sweet sounds tell me otherwise.
But I have made up my mind to continue on, and so
my adventurous endeavor will end before dawn.
I must have made some delusional decisions
because I look long and hard with no results.
With every step along my ghoulish chase,
the phantoms' voices diminish further into nothing
as if teasing me, their only blood connection left.
But my bullish stubbornness will aid in my prevail.
If not, it will render me insane, locked away
as these banshees remain just around the next corner.
Taunting me with the memories of their faces
but never to lay sight upon the their soft skin
My answers, which now only appear to me
as much the abortions as my sisters' songs
with hope will materialize into my possession anon
and Truth will be released from its Purgatory.
The question is simply stated thus:
are these majestic memories revealed to me
as impish fiends, dancing about, chained to guilt?
Or angelic cherubs reminding me of my love for them?
"Who's there?"
I can't quite make out the words or
the context within the overall discussion
but a ghostly recollection is in the voices.
Her inflection, her timbre, her lilt.
Its all so amazingly familiar, my sister
"Patricia, is that you?"
No response from beyond is received sadly.
Another voice is heard within the vast darkness-
the fiery red-head who was born last in our lineage.
But in these blackened hallways I see no one
however, these girls' sweet sounds tell me otherwise.
But I have made up my mind to continue on, and so
my adventurous endeavor will end before dawn.
I must have made some delusional decisions
because I look long and hard with no results.
With every step along my ghoulish chase,
the phantoms' voices diminish further into nothing
as if teasing me, their only blood connection left.
But my bullish stubbornness will aid in my prevail.
If not, it will render me insane, locked away
as these banshees remain just around the next corner.
Taunting me with the memories of their faces
but never to lay sight upon the their soft skin
My answers, which now only appear to me
as much the abortions as my sisters' songs
with hope will materialize into my possession anon
and Truth will be released from its Purgatory.
The question is simply stated thus:
are these majestic memories revealed to me
as impish fiends, dancing about, chained to guilt?
Or angelic cherubs reminding me of my love for them?
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