The Devil is he
who soaks our drunken throats
with emotional drops from the
stagnant oasis of our thoughts.

God is that ever-flowing power-up
making us sober up
and grow up from the mud.

Up a lily blossoms.

Grasping earth towards its core,
reaching sky towards the center of man,
where he stands in the middle.
Uniting two realities,
holding up the circle center of infinity.

Existence is not a
burdened Sisyphys boulder.
It is the smouldering of our
false molding into a vial
for the wannabe-god,
the supplier of belief in emotion.

Sober up,
grow up,
Lily.