In love with Narcissus,
you are the principle of evil,
dying with each song that denies the truth
that the words tell;

strange paradise would be
with out its swamps
or dark corners,
scraping the coast for years
until there history is as distorted
as the pictures they carve.

How lonely to only make the wine:
Seth and Ahriman,
sprung from a moment of indecision;
one side dying in the calm
of divine conduct,
the other feeding us hopes and dreams.

Echo hides like the fury
of hell in the dragons breath,
that reduces to carbon, bone, hair, and flesh.