The Undying Blaze
of the Sun of the Depths
Gives Colour to the sinking eye of the Prophet
Over our cleansed bodies
Burning like incense
Our mouths opened again to receive the ashen rain
Silenced be this darkness
Between the worlds
Where my wounds run cold
United in Blood
as the heirs of the morning star
Shall cripple before the Masters fall
Ripped from the Mother' crystal Womb
the truth is consumed
Within inner sanctum walls
As a sculpture, flesh ceases being
The Dying Seed of leaden stream
Like bathym ash strewn over my years
The one made of blood an ashen wings
Possessed by only sorrow
Bother not my sleep
For I seek his flame of purification
Sown on this black earth
The sullen eye
that harbours the night
In his shadow
I am yearning for death