All hail the King who gives thee numbers. Those who fear him shall stand beside him, And laugh with him, Only to be crushed by him like all other unsatisfactory numbers. Faces upon faces upon names upon names, Thrown into his royal strainer, Some falling through to the bottom, Disregarded into the King’s pot. Others stay behind, Fool’s gold twinkling in the King’s eyes. Beautiful numbers.
Numbers have the power to wage war. Score marks are scars of battle. The number of bodies piles up, While the bodies of numbers who stand by the king Dwindles. Friends become enemies while Enemies remain foes. People begin to go through dozens of faces And dozens of names To become a number worthy of the King. They are numbered, as they wish, Like cattle branded in a field.
They fight tooth and nail, Face and name, So busy trying to be a number They are not being men. As if the shape of a number describes them. As if a number’s curve, angle, or figure Truly encompassed their passions. As if quantity truly overcomes quality.
But no score marks me. No King stands over me. For I am not a number
I am Lucifer the Prince of daemons which I command like a bunch of minions, for with them I annex realms and subjects who are no more than heavenly rejects, distinct from Saints; the apples of God’s eye. In Eden’s
I heard sweet voices sing Fragrance of wild flowers in spring A thrown of gold for a King To watch His courtier dance and sing The Queen sits by His side Watching the fair maidens Trying to steal Her pride
There once was a King, who lived in a castle, in a Kingdom of his own. He had everything, royalty could bring, except; he was alone. Since love wasn’t there, his castle was bare, just a building made out of
The Butterfly has awoken And rightfully emerged from his cocoon What makes it so beautiful is Not the wings or image Of itself But the beauty of its flawlessness Mindset in this breath Taking shattering world It already being so
Through out time he dreamed of becoming a king Who would have all of the finer Things in this realm as he progressed And developed he would Finally close his palm to Realize his dreams And visions had finally evolved