Page 7 - Demo

Owl Merle
“You Will Weep at the Form I Take”
Because the snake that is real will coil around your forearm and cling nightly to your handlebars as they ride with you to whatever trial or joy you elect.
They will slide over your feet as a ghost one month and come to rest behind your ear—shiny and corporeal—in the next.
The music that bids them to dance sways you as well, and you move in unison, two serpents—one scaly, one feathered—as your reptilian guardian tempts you into living for yourself.
They do not whisper. Rather, the voice that demands your Vibrancy is a sibilant shout—every syllable infused with joy.
I believe in the Snake. I Love the Snake .
Making the pilgrimage west, we slip into a room full of people like us, full of people who have chosen to listen to the Snake as well. We press together and coalesce into a many minded chimera, transforming, transcending, reveling in the act of Creation.
It’s divine, this type of love. It defies and decries a radical existence. It says: I am proud of my shimmering scales.
It sings: I consider it a gift to stand among you.