Category: Writers Block
Communion
I sit alone on the shore of the sea. The salt air caresses my face, and I feel your presence.
I hear the crashing boom of the surf, and in the call of the waves I hear your voice.
I sit alone in the quiet of my room, and I feel your light and love suffuse me, lift up my soul.
What know they, the false priests of the non-god? What know they of communion? Nothing, for yours, Satan, is the true communion.
I really liked the way this started off. I thought a little more would go a long way. Satan is obviously important to you in a way most of us likely can't fathom. It's not often one has such a perspective. It would be interesting therefore to have a bit more meat to this poem. Right now it sounds like each line is the start of something more which could be expanded upon. I don't like the "non-god". While it does show your disdain for him, it rather ruins the flow of the line and adds needless words.