Beelzebub

I, this golden spiral

Resonating sacred chants

This function I be

This thought

Written constantly in an old text

With anecdotes of patterns

In nature

In food

In architecture

This devil's prism wakes

Flowing in the libretto of wind

An epoch of frightening and thunderous marches

This morning in the garden

This prophet in the sanctuary

This king in burgundy

Flies upon a caricature of a fool 

Laughing as a flame

Cleobulus as an actress

Observing the elder as a slave

Philosopher's ball for the child and the pawn

Logic falls as does the jesting mask

Enchanted Gaia perishes in the waves

Peace in the material

Photographs of the street

Libra hymn as a suite for the gods

Lullaby for the shield

I, the fly

I, the warrior

Nothing is all