Out from hiding
No more entertaining as yet untamed lions
For brittle cages are easily escaped
Embracing faith, of a kind
Enlightening lines from the Bible’s Book of Jeremiah replace my ire
With quiet, of a kind, so expensively acquired.
All happening as prophesied
The weak-willed cap doffing to the Lightningborn, a grim sire
Lord of all fires, Storm Squire, his malformed host perform gory rites
Writ misappropriated to suit wiles.
Burnt toast black, nice suit black, frostbite homeless toe black:
Unborns becoming smoke.
Most hopeless midnight since the Big Bang
Big opener, hopeless bag opener
Streplike smoke throat bang is cough provoking, but hold it to look manly
Aids my composition greatly but also makes me remote, vacant.
Alchemisland 
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