The Glorious Revolution

July 3, 2008
By Cierra Lowe, St. Louis, MO

The angels above weep and the demons below sing
As we sit eating apples beneath the shade of this tree
We are wretches and laugh though our souls are forsaken
Because no one in the audience can see that they’re naked

In the River Lethe is where we bathe and swim
And solemnly swear to never go back again
We drink from her waters to break this curse
For only tabula rasa can quench our thirst

We awoke on the riverbanks in beds of mud
Our hands and clothes were stained with blood
Upon the opposite shore were gathered passersby
“Oh what have they done?!” they frightened cried

We stood and we began to preach
We are the lost children of Persephone
We have been sent to settle an ancient score
Said your false gods, nevermore

Into the Western Lands our armies marched
And when we reached their gates we rattled the bars
We surrounded their walls and attacked from within:
Our glorious return to original sin.

All of the prisoners stood silent in single file
As we baptized their everlasting kingdom in fire
We whispered in their ears the true secret to life:
Perception is a fingerprint, reality a lie.

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