Apostles of Her Gnostic Truth

Peter and John,
Two men of Light,
Shadowy Lillith,
They call to life.

With truth Peter slaps her face,
While kissing her heart,
Isolation no more to be,
Slicing steps of living death.

Passionate voice, drawing her in,
John breeds her poetic sin,
Merging spirits, divided souls,
Amending whispers of virgin gospel.

Apostles of her Gnostic truth,
One former thrice denied,
Other, sage of revelations,
Both sliding into her sacred grave.

Birthing dead children,
Secrets of the past,
Through veils of passion,
Lillith craves the moment of her birth.

Barred from Eden,
She breathes no hope,
Bereft, she lies for all,
Legs spread, fettered to the gates.

Prisoner to her own desires,
To her the Apostles came,
Lust freed the gates,
Penetrating her serpent womb.

Carnal knowledge of her soul,
Chaste they remain,
Decorous to her fleshy dolor,
Crucifying Lilliths shame.

Slap her face and kiss her heart,
Divinity not superficial,
Forced honesty of sundered confessions,
Lillith stripped of all defenses.

Shorn of her myth,
Embracing candor of pregnant moments,
Apostles amity, soulful coitus,
Submissively quelling her fears.

Apostles of her Gnostic truth,
Both sliding into her sacred grave,
Unfettered Oracle now tours the gates,
God’s mystical epithet slides from her lips.

dlt © Jan. 9 2005