The devil gets so deep in your mind, it’s hard to tell which thoughts are his and which your own. That’s the struggle we face. That’s the struggle I face. My hands are fire and my heart coal. It’s only when my hands do their work that my heart is aflame. They do their work with ambition and love their work.
As they first start the ember glows. The spark is back and the blood begins its rhythm once more. Deeper they go, the higher the fire grows and my mind finds its reasons. I’ve found the light again, my heart’s conflagration burns out the sun. My light burning bright in another’s dusk.
Too deep in. Too deep, the flames change from monoliths to the whispers. I’m confused again. Who’s thought’s are these?