I dreamed a demon
Born of my breath.
Breath that turned to smoke,
The smoke to grey,
The grey to black.
And there he was,
With a thick black tail,
Eyes of red, and
Muscled like a komodo dragon –
The demon of all lives past.
Is there a saint in the room?
Someone with enough love,
Wisdom and skill?
To transform him.
Or must I face him?
Do I practice loving kindness?
And then a piece I read says
Follow your demons.
Shall I follow him
Through the murder of his wife
In front of his eyes,
Through his baby being stolen,
Through his house being burnt to the ground,
Through dying of cancer
Through being hung for his beliefs,
Through his sorrow.
And into his heart
Of goodness?
Am I strong enough
To become that saint?
Is there a choice?
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