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Serpent

Its heart spews filth, and carries that fame

Of one condemned from a cherubim past;

It sleeps in the grave and eats the earth’s dust

And rebels by trapping the Just.

 

Impudent to the Source, it treks the dark

Tailor-made for mischief and discord;

On its belly it crawls and roams the sacred

Soil, where men deify the sword.

 

The god of gore and sullen decadence,

His ken a mark of his years

In the trade;  It knows no other, vicious way

Than this:  It eats the spirit with sharpened blades.

 

Softens the sinews of the willing

Knaves, weaving the truth

With lies; Feeding the fools with Turkish delight

And seals and damns he who willingly dies.

 

Pride is sown in the mind, next

Sin —  its promise of fame tricks the kind;

As artfully as it crawls, it sheds its skin,

To earmark the naïve with binds.

 

Roaming the earth, the serpent reigns

Prevalent, its back ‘gainst weeping skies.

He that knows, woe to him when he bites

The bait, and believes its appealing lies.

 

The serpent covets more than any lover,

In its house there is room for more;

And it most assuredly holds preference

For cheats, for whom there’s so much in store.

 

Man’s strength is futile to eclipse it,

Robs resistance from even the stone;

All recognized hardness melts

In the pit, midst the carnage

Of flesh and bones.

 

He who can conquer the death

With life, He who can conquer perdition;

He who can lord o’er the Prince

Of the strife, undoubtedly, holds dominion.

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