Rising shadows of flames,
dressed in deep void, I arrive
to burn the bramble of your complacent life.
You hide inside this clay façade,
live for self in idle pleasure,
slumber in this carcass
of addiction and desire.
I hold you down as you writhe in agony,
thrive on your muffled screams.
You smolder in my odious breath.
My laughter, cackling flames.
You recoil, gasping for prayer,
rebuking this demon
and fear that this blood fire
is your last sunrise. Confess,
I fascinate you.
Though cast to the raging depths,
I still rise, a dark angel.
Not all wings are lucent.
This charred cloak is age old,
frayed by lies, greed, addictions.
Inferno flames are still divine.
I am the instigator, the phantom fire
plundering your earth
to crack open your seed
and hasten your growth.
For this you need me, Dark Apostle,
the harbinger sent to alarm and awaken,
to jolt you from trance
revised The Dark Apostle 05/12/2020
©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog; meelosmom.podbean.com (Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)
Image: “The Devil’s in the Details”, original digital art, ©Martha Harris. See Martha’s Artistic Flarings@artisticflarings.blog