Friday, December 17, 2010

I wish I was as awesome as William Blake. I might try to go back and make this whole thing rhyme, we'll see. Please tell me what you think the message is so that I can see if what I meant is coming through;

Principles and Paragons,
Blood-spilling martyrs
A journey of fire creates
The(y who have) Chosen

When pain remembered
but triumph forgotten
The Chosen believe another Chose;
Cull who suffered not the fire as they
rage at fate before time's hand
(Forgot the eyes that walked the fire
choices triumph not damnation)
Burn the witches black as hate
Only forgotten the power of fire
to choose the martyrs, choose the saints.

Cycles and cycles spinning wild
from the ashes born the child.
Burnt to bone, forged of fire,
head of storms and heart of ire.
Convicted for his father's sin
So the Chosen all begin.

Elided is the choice at hand,
the scars of vengeance burn at brand.
They are their father's sons in name,
and for the crime, earned the flame.
But father's paths and father's lives
are not what we ourselves contrive.
Remember now, the choice is yours
to carry on your father's wars.

Stampede forth, lead the herd
Judgment by the Holy Word.
Fear the choosing, be the Chosen
Give the soul to mob's erosion.
Or:
Split the scars to open eyes,
walk the fire as the wise.
Reject the path that 'Fate' would give,
Thy Holy Word; "This is mine to live."
Write The Book of Man anew
Let He Who Chooses be you

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