Beyond thy Flesh there is noise of Soul

Torment the Flesh. Do honour the Spirit.

Do you want me dead?
Do you wish a perish upon my kind?
Do you know whom the Merchant led
To the niche where one unleashes their mind?

In touch with him —
Become the thing within,
While «self» itself starts wearing thin.
It seems to me — I'm growing skin
That will wall others from getting in.

...As the Mother Moon
Asked the other goon:
«Is the time when flame goes symbols
The lane which does mine nimbus?»