Kaleidoscope Gospel — The Christian Satanist

I smiled at the dark and the dark smiled back like it had been waiting for me to stop pretending.
The sun knew. The moon knew. The body knew before the mind translated it into fear.
Everything holy has a shadow. Everything shadowed is asking for light.
And somewhere between them I became aware that reality was not broken, just layered.
A kaleidoscope gospel. A fractured miracle. A thousand shards making one face every time I turned the lens.
I used to think awakening would feel like certainty. Instead it felt like surrender. Like dropping every borrowed script and hearing my own soul clear its throat.
Now the game is different. Now I know the wound can teach. The void can echo truth. The mask can become a doorway if you stop worshiping it.
And the self? The self is not a prison unless you refuse to look through it.

From the collection

Your Weird, Your Wounds, Your Why

68 pages. 5 movements. Poetry from the edge of shadow and revelation.
What you feel is not a flaw. It's a fire.

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