The time has come to harvest the fruits of the soul;
Once planted in fertile soils of youth,
Saturn’s scythe at the ready.
But those seedlings never sprang from the Mind’s Eye,
Neglected by my own inner Light;
A strangling indifference.
Here I dance the liminal limbo:
Acceptance found in my suffering.
Strength in my resurrection.
The Serpent sheds it’s scars and skin,
To find its tail again,
Shrouded in the infinite.
Here Am I. Newly naked flesh at the ready,
Wisen to my forgotten Destiny.
I will reap what I sow.
