What that we could see our demons.

Feel their fetid breath on our cheeks or

the texture of their skin.

The grip of their fingers lifting our hands to sin.

Would they seem beautiful?

It'd be no great surprise if, to me, they did.

I who am blind.

I who even in seeing

fail to perceive, much less

comprehend. It's mercy that forbids it.

Mercy that disallows my senses

to be stirred by glorious phantoms

ringed in mist or flesh.