The Great Rejection

The Great Rejection

 

The cold air sifts through my fingers leaving only bitterness in my mind—

Weathered by the forever night enveloping one with no hope.

A canvas appears with the images of my own past;

Brush strokes mark the page and illustrate the words I’ve spoken sincerely:

I am destruction

I am heresy

I am the gnashing of teeth

My spirit screams in agony—lost in God; lost in hatred colored heresy

I am the planter of the seeds of dissent

I am the cultivator of the fields of contempt

I am arrogance

This road is pocketed with grief and hatred

My eyes have been forever darkened by the cross

And their ignorance and disbelief has turned my spirit downward!

I have chosen this path!

I have chosen to walk alone!

I have chosen to forsake their God!

And I will be damned if my life is not my own!

The narrow path has crumbled before me and the mists which shroud the fall

Speak of Luciferion rage:

I exist under the confines of no deity and my vengeance is my own.

I am hatred

I breathe damnation

 

Take them out of my sight and lay them to rest:

They have been found unworthy to eat from the Tree of Knowledge!

By his hand shall the self-righteous be slain;

By his fire shall they burn

And in shadowy graves will they be lain

So that those who disbelieve shall be turned!

And those who once turned their eyes towards the heavens

Towards the Light and a loving savior

Will forever have their eyes cast downward

For I am destruction Veritas; Anti christos!

For I am the gnashing of teeth

And they shall know their existence to be a life lived in the shadow of Lies

 

This path is marred only by the impatient and irrevocably ignorant

Words spoken by the unfoundedly arrogant!

I will not bow to your God!

Your faith is nothing!

I will not drink from the cup of subservience!

I will feast my hatred on the thoughts of a darker world!

You are the charlatan harlots of your own kingdom,

You goddamn whores of empty faith and archaic deception!

Your faith is nothing—your God is nothing!

Everything you say is hollow—worthless like the void of humankind.

This is true winter—the thought of never finding peace.

And now another minute lost watching the sky and rain.

Walking the path, darkness fighting

The setting sun.

My infidelities I whisper beneath the twilight

And a flickering God above

My weariness is drawn as if like a painting, besetting

The expression of control I so desperately hold to.

My nostalgia is like a candle, my desire acts as a wind

That desires to end its light.

But I still fight to find peace with this anger;

There are places that I have seen, places which evoke painful

Beauty and peace:

I have walked the shores of the ocean, across the snowy mountains

And I have traversed the islands of memory.

This is a circle of living that is both loathed and loved—

Clinging to the few peaceful moments—but it is comforting.

I imagine a god listening to my bitter prayers—

The inevitable shudders of my body in anger.

At long last I find sleep, though light it may be;

I give myself to sleep as a pilgrim act of sleepwalking,

Dreaming of somewhere I have never been.

Weary, clinging to my fitful sleep, I said your name

The name of my burden and my companion:

“How late it has become; how angry this life has been.”

I am eternal; this is the great rejection

I am Eternal and I will sleep.

In this I have been named as Such:

Veritas; anti christos

 


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AshesofLilith
Poetry
Other
writing AshesofLilith
And God created the dust and from dust he begot man; we are but ashes and dust scattered by the wind across a vast nothingness we ourselves have created.
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