I lie awake most nights, in stupor from the fear

That I am not a man, but beast,

An abomination from a dream.

The darkness not obscuring, it makes things clear,

The merest whisper transformed into a scream.

In this primal womb the truth’s gestating

And I am but a speck of dirt,

The monstrous urges seep from me and fester

They fill the void with a monsoon of lust.

If god made me in his perfect image

Then why am I so base and vile?

Why do I abhor my instincts,

Those mortal trappings I so revile.

I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to sleep

The fire in my belly is my drive,

That pushes me to escape the cycle,

To throw away the guise of sheep.

If only I could leave this body,

And join the elements in their lofty realm,

I would finally be free to rampage

Across the kingdoms, through the forests of oak and elm.

I now see the truth, I found

That I don’t have a beast in me, I am the beast,

It’s the man inside that is trapped and bound.

He may try to control my thinking, my actions or my mind,

But he’ll never even have an inkling

what joy it is to run, to hunt, to feast.

He may write or sing or love with ardor

But he’s truly just a spectral thing,

I am the truth of blood and bone and sinew

Even if only he will soar, untethered, on the sacred wing.

Whatever hopes or dreams he may harbor

It’s my job to keep his creative force at bay

For his is the light but mine is the curse,

The curse of flesh, the affliction of decay.

Conjoined at our creation, we were given orders,

I remember the binding pledge we made,

The will was to ascend to the holy quarters

The body left to sink and disappear into the mud.

This connection we both can’t suffer

To continue until the day of bliss,

What power, what vengeance, could we unleash

Upon the world, if we ever struck a peace?