Dark Angel

I am the snake that stands upright,
my eyes jeweled stations.
Reflections come and go
with the flies.

No ant alone
in a hill of ants is so busy.
What I declare
is my rightful pleasure:
independence.

I have grown hair
and feathers to cover my skin,
but I am not shy.
My importance lies
in the simple fact that I am,
for a long time was,
before men wrote history down.

Ice and snow belonged to the future.

Now I turn back light
in the way the moon reflects light.
I hold tides tight.
My mind is blooded with darkness.
It won’t be long
before I am said to belong.

I encourage fear,
unwillingness to trust your neighbor,
but I am not cruel.
I am a stepping stool only.
I’m your lust.