A Summons to a Kindred Spirit

The truest friend understands your demon's head and purifies your spirit.

Aye! Ne'er nearer to concepts involving a mirror
Too complex, too simple to leer, no image to fear
In solace, true image, I bathe in true will, yet, sullen, I aim to draw near

A friend, a consort; a cohort, a non-formed, longed for, reformed God form.
Four years I've forlorned, you, dear, o'er sworn blue chills

It's true bliss, pray, I wish!
To share this, whether hit or miss, hearts to uplift
So many, dark rused bits lingerin' in triple darkness
Hearken to this, last message, Alas!
Methods I grasp, in my palm - the wretched shall laugh
I am calm. I am calm! Ne'er to shout this

What about this? Perhaps you will listen, it's not too complex. Simple, yet, profound. Not lost, yet, it can't be found, lest!
The echoes resound, in your temple of crown -
Bless! I heart for your sound, your gifted reclined clout!

Let it out! Be my friend, let me in, rid this sin! I am not a - Djinn; rather an, Angel fallen, risen again, able to call Him, written til end, o'er the beginning
The Holy shall win - share that widest white grin, for I've long been too dim, in my knowledge, Ascend!

Let us be - great, sacred indeed.