12 August 2012
I guess you could call it empathy, perhaps it's a pact with Hell. An extra sensory sympathy, for dead men have stories to tell.
Some kind of divination, from a primal place in my mind. Like automatic writing, or channeling of some kind.
Maybe it's a residue of my conversations with the divine. A paranormal activity, that flows from an ancient blood line.
My body is my temple, in which I so often play host. Cleansed and consecrated, to welcome the wandering ghost.
It so often leaves me empty, sometimes open to attack. Though my Faith holds me strong and steady, for the God's are watching my back.
So I do not fear the darkness, inside out I bask in the light. I rejoice in the blessings of gifts received, as I serve my Father's Might.
E.S.P • Opuss № I