Depths

Depths

Wrangle up a monster

From the down below

Summon up a beast

That one can keep and know

A tiny, personal demon

One to call your own

In the furnace flames,

An angel image shewn

Burn the picture well

Into your flesh and mind

Hook it into every pore,

Be sure to be unkind

For the creatures that do dwell here,

In these dark and lonely parts

Sing songs of woe and cowardice

Emanating from empty hearts

Little, naughty things

That upon the pain will feast

Siphoned off a tank of dreams

Of which you know the least

I can retell an ancient tale,

Bound by honor, I will never

To have a shallow type of glory

A broken attempt at being clever

My own private monster

Would certainly not be pleased

It takes the choice and refuses to

Be taunted, mocked or teased

All the lovely portions and parts

Hungers it has now sated

Replaced in time by stupid rhyme

And nonsense, well-debated

This is the thing that demons do

And it’s what fascinates us so

All the places and all the things

They can make us do and go

© 2019 Magus, Kevin Trent Boswell

The Nascent Magician magick course

Conjure Work