RITUAL
I stood on the bank of a river,
In Babylon, ages ago.
Mystical shrine on the water.
A priest I was. Holy, I know.
The water was redder than wine,
While I worshiped a wonderful beast :
A woman, with body as lithe
As a panther, unveiling the mist.
Deep in the pit of her eyes,
The Dark Moon ,The Desert of Death.
With a kiss I drew passionate sighs,
From the well of her deep humid breath.
She had stirred my madness, awake
From the silence. A mysterious vail
Hiding from me ,lustful snake
Entwined in her limbs. A sharp wail,
As a font of blood leaped up high,
Where my blade cut her skin, so acute ;
Staining the shield of the sky.
Crowds of souls, frightened and mute...
So I clung to her lips while her eyes,
Raining black bright stones as for tears,
Looked for the last time, how blithe,
I slipped all her past through the years.
Wherefore, reborn then I came,
Like a Lion-heart Lord from the stars.
A Cherubim, my spear of flame,
Pointing my way... All the scars
Healed by the blood streams of pain,
and the riotous galloping love.
The absence of guilt, all the strain,
To alter the heavens above.
I was crowned with a garland of thorns,
A collar of gold for my throat,
Scarlet attires for my horns.
I'm The Beast, I'm The Lord, I'm The Goat
