I was told to follow the Greeks early in life.
The cup of God pressed to my lips,
I was following a deep daring dream.
Embroiled in massive icons, I wanted a name.
God Spoke. Marry.
My voice listened.
The ghosts of my layers of fiery death to
the heroine, played out like rivers of silent
potions.
It gave me a reason to feather trinkets
called poems.
I was a burden first,
then finally a collossal.
Enriching my words,
I talked to the stars.
Eventually, the spirits listened,
listening to my heart.
I have not fathomed yet,
the depth of a general awakening.
My double footsteps touch Myrh,
as I rule the Earth,
a small soul following the scope
of my destiny.
He is mine.
He will help me to follow the measure
of rhyme with meaning.
No one single line can I claim.
I call my own, a following,
with my single deck of cards,
a mystery amongst women behind veils.
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