Infernus

Infernus

This side of the mortal coil is but the eye of the storm,

a respite from chaos of a scale that leaves bullshit artists like me to wonder.

The silver tongue profligates snakeoil,

consisting of 1 part the ineffable,

1 part the pretentious,

and 2 parts bewilderment.

This concoction,

reeking of bullshit,

is so appetizing that the snake bites its own tail in a momentary lapse of judgement.

A trinity of form suddenly becomes the norm,

spirit, possibility, and a projection known as a lifetime.

A serpent represented by a pentagram by some or the flower of life by others

basks in the eternal sunshine

that casts the glow of the moon.