My Pantheon

No coincidences, ghosts
look like smoke
in winddances

Father to son
phantom to pneuma
sharpen crystal glances

Mother to daughter
woman to warrior
birthing second chances

I walk both
sides of both
sides, fire strewn

Feet of clay
hands like torches
gods I hew

Borned hot, Icarus
sings tales, like
our Father withdrew

Even beaten, never
kept far, you
called me Brother

Other tongues in
lit grass taste
like lovers suffer

Pray these last
devils die, ones
ashamed of Mother

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