Lorenzo Buford
I am the Wanderer
who now sleeps at the base of the tree
the coiled serpent, the kundalini.
Do not awaken me when you walk by.
Your footsteps hurt my silence, I cry.
I am weary of this human journey
that seems to circle back on itself.
Do not awaken me with your voice
this constant chatter that scratches at my insides.
Do not welcome me with your mouth.
I care not to drink your poisonous words
that will make curses upon my selves
and I will vomit my selves upon the ground
and the Dark Mothers will cry
for my blood that is their drink.
Do not see me with human eyes
because I will be cast in your flesh
and then I am you, wandering
and fear the harvest of the Shadows that is coming.
I will be like you, a succubus with my affections.
I will summon daemons from my fractured mind
and will call them Heaven and Hell
as I bow to craven images I carve from my madness.
So do not wake me with your smell.
You are not ready for the stench of my presence
because I am the waste of the Heavens.
I am excrement of the gods.
I am the waste of the Greater Darkness.
If you do not want to smell my roses,
and you still fear my serpent eye
let me sleep at the base of the Tree
until the Beloved awakens me with the Kiss.
Where are the graves that should hold me
instead of letting my carcass rot within their eye sight?
I stir but go back to sleep, you are not ready
to be awaken by the Life.
NEXT: Uthra
More Information? - please contact Lorenzo Buford.