Love-lost of Antigone

I hail Satan as the pillar of my heart; a cauldron of darkness flame, embrittled.
For what is He know but the emissary of the Flame upon my swollen heart, that a mere dandelion filtering the autumn Sun into a blaze?
Hail, my Imaginary prophet, for I am forgotten! What voices say unto me is that I am entitled, entitled to win, entitled to doctrine as a parakeet with a glass slipper.
I watch as my imagining begins to grow as the gods fight over them and me with pillars of the vain heart of the Ares ram, and the SAgggistarrius, inclined; whereas I am not.
I can invoke; with me, dreaming is but an absence of a state of mind; a whisper in the sand dunes; whereas reality is its alternate view inspired by alternate PEOPLE. Dare I say more about the subject?
It took me over 15 years to stretch forth my hand and repel Satan, the name I govern as my imagination, heaven's glance into this world.
Am I SAtan or Saturn, it keeps asking, half-tormenting me in a whisper of analogies. I am Saturn, God of Destruction, warrior of Ruin; I am Hotaru; but first, and I make it a must, I will only be ME, myself, MOON, of my own tapestry and guide of my own heart. For greater love hath no one than he who lay his life for his friend. And is a friend not the justice of the Heart and Soul? They quarrel, but do they empower You?
I wonder how sweet the meadows flow into my Elysian some by the river-sea bends of my imagination? I talk to them, amounts the clouds of imagination, to the actual inspiration and manifesting void called "sacred", in which I ask permission for them to continue growing into my mind's eye my imagination to the real world.
They are parasites; Butterflies so enormous that they can devour a whole planet; yet, I have come to know them as my accompanying voids of Elysian relevance; a pillar of Soul; and the reason why Cloud Strife is still CLOUD-aye-Oh!