A Scepter. A Sword. A Scourge.
With an open
eye, scope the beasts that
fly. With a closed fist, greet
the creeping
things. A crown
is a sort of horns when worn
by your sworn enemy. Take
up sword,
shape the clay, walk the burning
embers to prove your worth.
A serpent is a form
of scepter when gripped by your
sworn enemy. Asleep it is a
scourge that sways
in the bitter wind. Spied
by a flying thing,
your foot held fast to clay,
a name amasses in the waters
of the mind & your enemies
a flame.
A right line, crooked
& reflexed spells the simple
figure of your enemy:
the sacred covenant.
This is how it shall be discovered.
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