Temple

It was the fruitful cosmic interplay that struck him down, and it was the serpent who bowed to the wraith of an idyllic flower, and it was a witch composed of dirt, and her violent canine, and it was a crescent that billowed in shimmery ease to the night eye, and it was the black temple riddled with headless believers eating one another, and it was a red fright swallowing the truth of the apoptosis, and it was he whom was I, and everything which is us.