The Ink Blot Prophecies

Sentient forms

Distill in realms transcendent

A threshold senses cannot pass

Where abstract shapes of will amassed

Reveal dynamics of desire

The cancer of control 

Mired in repeating cycles 

Longer than the breadth of life and death 

Or single generation

And thus the patterned is concealed

Taxing the sage while prophet splay

The inkblot omen

Parading through millennia

The chorus of history cants the evil ostinato

But cloaks fomenting spirit

Hidden in the human heart

While ravaging earth in it

The presage rattling the door 

Her drums have stopped 

Warning no more

It’s here the silence whispers

Sin is in the gates

Beware the ink blot prophecies 

Announce they registers again

Where pound of flesh is reckoned less

Than ounce of plain prevention