Entranced by nocturnal torpor In search of long forgotten relief Cross'd the first threshold of the real Thy lustful creature came to me Her lips, most and warm Ravishing in blissful ecstasy Oh, heavenly delight! Obscured by floating mane Oh, Thou, infernal Child! Which intent? To relieve me from torment? I ignore, but I swear Her touch was not mundane As I repossess my senses A ware of the suspension of the ego Announcing Thy arrival, The veil, once cracked, shook. My sight, quivering Catched Thine sidereal face Of pale, shining lure. Oh, Master, is it You? Thine hair, of fire Thine grin, crescent moon Blade of the deadly scythe. Firm, ardent, real. At first dread and fear, Then solace, ardor, zeal. Words do not suffice To express Thy mighty wonder Or maybe, yes, they do For, as an acolyte of yours, I learnt that in between heartbeats and sights. My Master, Thou reside.