NEEDLEWRITER

Burning at the stake

It was fine, really. Didn’t mind much when the flames caught my „Dress”, and started o climb up towards my feverish, angry heart. It was fine, even hearing the „holy mob” poisonous words from their deadly mouth towards my burning throne – my last stand. It was fine screaming cassedness at them – Because it was Truth. What is awaited on the other side only my keen mind saw. What is expected of the mob when I fully burn down to ashes and the wind blows me accros the land, is also true. My spirit then will soar the holy Earth only resposive to those who really are in search of Truth. It will lay open for them a deep well and big land to seed and harvest and a mind clean as water – and ofcourse a burning, cassed heart to walk again amongst the „holy mob”, being an hidden acter of the World theatre. The curtain opens as I burn , wishing my only desire away – to be free. Now the curse across the Earth whispered with the blowing wind, says silently the only one Truth there is to tell the „holy mob”.

„Wicked, wicked something
Your way comes
For it is you who is done
For it is your soul which is gone
May you never see the raising Sun”

Farewell.