Incorporeal

Incorporeal

I am
Incorporeal

I am a purest energy
A fission of spirit and guile
Forged by a terrible will
With moxie and trial

My vessel
Constructed of precious metals
Galvanized by hot winds
And hammered into shape

Cleansing of the rust
Imperfections and blemishes
Carried out by the hands
Of a vessel I command

I stoke the forge
Shape my movements
I pound my temple into
Submission

I am
The ghost in a machine
A machine that belongs to me
But may yet be stolen someday

One day I may need
To seek another vessel
Somewhere else
Far from this one

But that next vessel will be
Just the same
Fought and beaten into shape
Commanded by a terrible will

Incorporeal
I think, I command
Smashing my vessel
With furious demands

This trial is long
It is arduous
I throw the levers, speak the voice
Showing my vessel the things I like

When I hurt, I hurt
Not my steed, it’s me
The injured one inside
A ghost in the machine, alive

Yet my fire is searing
My flames are striking
And I will protect my vessel
With the terrible will that is me

Discrepancies and fissures
In my precious metal skin
Are welded aggressively
With sparks’ memetics

Cauterizing the wounds
With megalomania
Stitching the frame
With induced hallucinations

I stride over mountains
Pilot the animus skies
And retreat to subspace
To find familiar places

Controlling the eyes
Windows to imply
I am more than this
Simple cobbled guise

Incorporeal, this is what I am
An insurmountable fire in disguise
This most terrible will
A ghost in the machine

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