Sabbat

SABBAT

A silver orb, a silhouette
Against a midnight sky;
A seductive seizing of the soul
With a glance from the witches eye.

A dark, perverted whisper
In a satyr’s savage hiss;
A self-destructive stupor
With a scorching siren’s kiss.

A shrine to lost and silent souls
Is found within the wine
(A similis of shrieking
In the scraping of the vines).

A succubus supplanting
The temple’s somber sage;
A parody of sacrament
In an unenlightened age.

The sycophant and sybarite
All gather in the shade;
A flash of scarlet scimitar
Against a sleeping maid.

A dirge replacing hymnody
To signal sorrow’s start,
A savoring of suffering,
A scalpel for the heart.

A darkening trail along a breast,
A soul no longer home,
The sacrificial offering,
A chilling of the bone.

A pale, scaled hand up-reaching,
A granting of a boon;
A surfeit of dark desire
In the red light of the moon.