the becoming

Those old pleasures I have left behind--
glut, sloth, weak, slow, pain, death, shame...
there were probably more.

They can be replaced with other vices
more fitting The Becoming.

Fire burns me--pain, sacrifice
the tinder...
and flame.
But as the Phoenix can tell you:
Baby, it ain't so bad.

Oh, doubt not for one split second
that i can endure this...
"s'only a flesh wound..."
and I know it's red, not blue!

Crawl if I must before
I
can
Walk!
But soon, I'll run
and never be back.
Not those old paths.