It’s only a shadow, right?
The bearer could never become the borne without first passing
Through those gates that only lie within
The eye of the needle.
But when is it proper?
For should I turn against the thrice-wounded center
And lounge with Lucifer
In damnation’s living room.
For how is there hope?
The apex is only as high as the reach of the lowest man
But within it is the chance
For one’s redemption.
Stay tuned for next week’s episode.
Submitted as part of my mid-semester Writing Poetry assignment. What’d you guys think?