The High Priestess is under attack
It’s how she refuses to emit
Not one slip-surely you’ll tell the next chance you get
Not one miss-just drive the nail in
On the table, each to each, a confessional beauty
Cry at Her feet, never to last it out or give way
Even upon pleading, upon bleeding
Near supplication and clutched calm
Cinder is thrown as if in India and it’s Kali Yuga
Eden screams and pulls at Her hemisphere
The Immaculate Perception 