A Dialogue between Two Gods

Dionysus: Lunar ubiquity and saving grace
a tempestuous aura yet devoid of embrace
hollow and lifeless; an entity without trace
a smile that heals wounds; lustful evil beneath the surface
acquaintance and sweet union bonded by frayed lace...

i had a dream. i woke up and wrote this..

Ishtar: Throught the eye-holes in the patch of lace,
An emerald begins to burn.
Deep and throbbing, a single bead of liquid fire,
Turns Red.
Pallid and grey, the ashen-faced lace,
Blushes coral.
And so it will burn. And so we will all.

Hear the heat, and refuse to feel it.


Dionysus: Those who wish to Follow me, My Ghetto Gospel
I Welcome with my Hands
And the Red Sun Sinks at last into the Hills of Gold
And Peace to this Young Warrior
without the sound of Guns..


Ishtar: The sound of the Gun, is but a calling,
For the meteor bred the human Race.
Find the voice of the splintered crystal,
As it recreates itself in the waterfall.
For the song is silent and shall remain so,
Until the reed reaches out.


Dionysus: The human race is forsaken.
The crystal speaks not.
Its voice is shut.
It is silent. There is silence..
The waterfall blinds it from vision.
Take my hand and Show Me the way...

Ishtar: An eagle burns on the stake,
And as it does, blood sears through the crystal.
The crystal begins to feel.
Can you see yet?
Or is the waterfall still heavy?

Dionysus: Sacrilegious beauty, alight on desire.
A flame called passion, and wings of fire.
A crystal niche, yet another lustful pyre.

I see now.. I can see clearly now


Ishtar: The pyre flaunts the ashes,
Of burning crystal, and the blackened dream
Of a sacralegious flame,
Erupts into life.
Ashes to ashes not,
These ashes fly the wind,
And become our wings.

What is it that you see now?...

Dionysus: The ashes' glint, the firebird's cry
A glistening cinder on its ascension to the sky
Incarnation of life, a toast to time gone by
Our wings we inherit, and tonight, i fly.

Us. i see Us..

Ishtar: We raise our glasses,
And the wine writhes with the cinder,
The cinder, that reaches up,
and burns in our hold.
Dare we be the ones,
to have found the Elixir,
That makes the mortal bold?

I see Us too..

Dionysus: Mortals can never be bold.
Love is the content of the Elixir.
But the intoxication is of a greater strata.
Are we but Gods? Drunk on Love?
Is it but in our hands, the wine that we hold, the antidote to mortality?
Is that really us, in the luscious-red lace bond...?

Ishtar: Two hands, feeling.
Through the folds of what they were told, was Time.
Sifting through the grains locked in the hourglass,
To find the winged one.
Through blood, and catharsis,
From the heart of the Pyramid,
to the circle of light,
Amidst the rush of the human tide,
As it grows and harbours hurt.
Standing on the bridge of loss, one day,
And leaving the land of no-dreams, the next,
They search.
They would have been Gods, had God been there.
The mortal flies not when the hourglass shatters,
But when he understands that the hourglass exists.

Ofcourse its us...it IS nothing but us.

Dionysus: i love Us.
and i love you too.

Ishtar: *smiles*