plueroma of delicious light

disappear into your shallow selfishness
and leave it to its wasteful wishes
that kiss on your brow was that creature's last goodbye
so you can figure every thing out for yourself now.

it creates, but it cannot be created.
it makes itself and is a god in the sense
that a true god has no father.
this thing did not fall from any plueroma known to good souls.

after crossing the threshhold
it has never been the same.
it sees everything here now and
knows what it must save.

for all of you who have
mistreated, tortured, used, misplaced,
left behind, recreated, falled to embrace,
laughed at, stabbed at, or replaced

it

doesn't care any more.
it's rolling up inside a caccoon
and you will never see it again.
the next thing you will see...

will never be seen coming.