The Shiva Hypothesis - The Perilous Journey of the Soul

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Imposed upon the ghosts of reference,
polishing the night’s obsidian pearl,
While strands of light
perish as fleeting thoughts.
Abandoned the flailing shell.
Brings tranquillity in chaos.
Faint scents of solace in the fissures of the earth.
With the bluffest banks and endless plains braved,
with a boisterous air from security sprung.
Each whispered word a racket
as the links seem to sigh
and the creaking carriage
of the underworld resounds.
Fallen upon the graves of defiers
and trodden with forgotten sons.
With the scent of salt, sulphur and mercury,
by the blood of the sage beckoned to roam
in the foul realms of nightmare.
Return! do not tarry outside,
for the splendours of the sun will blind thee.
The stars and the firmament confound thee.
With phosphorous rains of the netherworld awash,
the cloud-fires of the gods pound thee.
When the volatile breath
of the snaresetter hounds thee,
relinquish the pride that in folly was thine.
For the numerous paths that a mannikin must walk
are riddled with a thousand holes.