Pt. 7

But wait, for here, by way of interlude, be sweet Ophelia
did she not walk this spot,
hear the grim whisper
before the waters took her?
Ah then, she shall be re-animated,
drawn from sullen streams,
to rise in a tempest of rage
to avenge the wrongs of savage dreams.
See how already she captivates with her charms?
And who could resist?
To be, yes, to be, and in that she is the answer,
born anew against the thunder.
But caution, she approaches, caution now, caution.
Look, her hair, wet, unfurled,
her eyes a'swirl in drunken desire,
her breasts a sullen dawn, her thighs afire.
She shall take thee,
contaminate your precious morality,
render invalid your studied reserve.
Fuck you, yes, she'll fuck you well,
you and your buttoned-up sense of self,
your tragic existential denial.
But wait now, is this not also He, manifest, long before the trial?
No, no, never could he show it,
so now she, left in desolation, is come that you might know it.