A simple wish

Angels aren’t real,
And faeries are a myth.
There are no magic wands,
To do miracles with.
Genies stay in their lamps,
And no grants from a well.
A clover is pretty-much useless,
And the devil, he seems happy in hell.

The Host

Listen to the silence,
the winds breathe.
At the earth’s core,
rests a fiery heart.
Molten and hot with passion.
The skies speak,
roar and cry.
This entity’s consciousness,
Lies at the horizon.
We who dwell within
Are the offspring.
Nay, we are parasites.