I watch as this life giving force pulses out of me with no beat. Its flow creates a dank, dark, draft of red filament bleeding the dark sin-like matter out of me. It shows me its control by having no rhythm that is of me but only the vibration of the church that has encased my soul. The institution tells me I am nothing. A blank canvas, a body to be walked over, a mourner whose plea has no value. The bleakest of bleak. The truest of sinners. It is not just my being that is now black and bloody my soul is lost. I’ve given in and left my body to those who seem to be my captors. They own me. I shall do as I am told. The bloody path unfolds and I awaken to the place of no time where souls are not free. They communicate with no words as they are bodyless. When we gave up our body we gave up our creation. We are puppets on a string dangling in the space between worlds. Seeking from one another only what we can see if we look to ourselves. I see the reflection but I cannot grasp it. It is out of my reach.