Otherworldly Father

Lugh of the Golden Eye
Lugh of the Crimson Hand
Father you have heard my cry
Alone in darkness I stand
Erect yet fallen
Enraged and sullen
For I have died
My blade does cry
Wailing is the spear of blood
To drown in poppy seed of love
That song I hear eternally sung
Far the spirit it has flung
The Crimson Hand
The Dead who stand
Falling has brought thy here
Into the shadow I stare
Golden one I hear your distant song
Sun rising no longer long
Golden eye opens anew
Shining brow, a new morning drew
My father stirred ancient thought
A song of spirit lost and sought
‘Rise again my wandering son
Deeds there are to be done
Healed are your wounds
Blessed indeed is the groom
So sharp is thy sword
Sharper still thy silent word
You know as I speak
For this is what you seek
Crimson hand to let free yet rest
Ever rise, Immortal Crest’

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Lugh

Lugh

I am art
I am free
I am living art
Beauty is the reflection
Mind only seeking perfection
Art speaks with eloquence
Art walks with dignity
I am blessed
I am cursed
For art is ever unobtainable
Ever lacking
I am ugly
I am a monster
When I am not art
I am that
That thing that cannot be named
Art created it
It came from the reflection of beauty
It is hungry
It is dominating
I can not stop it
Because I love it
Because I hate it
Art is what created it
Solitude art brings
Contempt art creates
The silence of all
Ghost that passes by
One they see yet never speak of
Words that speak passion
Words that bring no response
Eyes that see beauty
Eyes that see a fallen world
Madness
Shift
Hostility put upon you
Looking down upon you
Betrayal
Disbandment
Fight to maintain honour
A world wishing my honour destroyed
Appearance is the first perception of hate
Every word they say
Every look they give
Competition in this world
Creates nothing but hostility
I know why you are hostile
I know why you hate
For I am art
For I am free
You despise what you can not obtain
You despise what you have not done
When you despise me
You despise yourself
In that I find pleasure of knowing
If you believe I might know
Know that I do
These thoughts are thirteen paces ahead
Your footwork has catching up to do
So go be spiteful
Feed me your hate
I am hungry
I will feed you beauty
I will feed you living art