Orat Zeppelin VII (descendant rising)

This is big, this is reaching: hubris on a leash investing in a nosedive of
A ride, jump into the corner cut, the rutting stag – blinded and attacking
Stance of angry stuck in lockhorn, adoring and prevailing; least of his sad
Kind to tail behind the one he’s chasing. This Man I say, is a triangle in
Essence, an angle in equality; friend of choice in poor vitality to take his
Flame to water, bury down in shoulder’s target, breathe upon the sacrifice.
Like arrow on a bow incarnate, bone withdrawn and coy about it just to say
It circles close, comes to bind us; figuremast tied to the post and reading
From green tablet, as it were. As Above, So Is Below, and showing where
He’s rabid. Lion in a sleeping world of violence and prey, blood and animalic;
Human host to prove to most the art of themis aurea, the primal as inevitably
Drawing to a close, returning to its habit. Key to common discourse said to
Tiptoe in an argument, wrap snakes around the sanctity: be the cinder rising
From the whitest of dark fume, the wrongest of the truancy that’s heading
Straight behind. There was given me a sting of my flesh, and unresting
I stumble asleep at the wheel.


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