You cannot serve two masters.
As some point, you pick one
or the other. You chose who
you really are, what you really
love, what you really cherish,
what you will give your life for.
 The time is coming, I realize,
as I look in the shadowed reflection
in the glass, back lit by harsh light,
in a warm July night, as the city
hums and burns and laughs.
The time is coming to chose.
 Am I really an angel, or only a man,
or perhaps a demon, bent on revenge?
Am I really the angel, I say I want to be?
Is there a devotional heresy, or fair blasphemy,
or unloving righteousness. Which will I be.
 The choice will be made, one way or another,
in blood and fire, or in silence, or by valiant sacrifice.
The choice will be made in either bravery or craveness.
In loving her truly or going into the laughing death
of the Venusberg.
 The choice will be made, one way or another……….

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