djinn

I, martyr of the flesh, summon you:

creature of the veil, to guide me through.

Rectify the shards that split me in two,

convert them to the natural;

the looking glass that reflects the true.

Consume the fatigue and birth something new,

the battle of the paradox,

send your men to the front of the pew.

Bring forth another gift, this your final cue,

hold the unmarked parchment,

and grant a northern star to light my view.

Rub the oil lamp, these three things I plead.

Leave one vertical line if unworthy you deem.