The last of storms
Dies atercaptivity as stars bled
Dusk's bringers of
storm, a degraded rapture of light
Driven by storm,
conquered hazy fields
While fallen
emperors were drowning through the night
An imbrued and tortured
valley, sweet wounds not to heal
Gleaming in faint
moonlight, left for ages...
Distant towers,
covered by mighty shadows
Glancing in a
feral light - realm of ice
Infernal fires
introduce the coming of Hell
Longing for
promised victories - resurrection's storm
With raging
insanity on the Almighty's side
Swords spilling
out men's lives - the battle turns
A wounded,
withering landscape left behind
Where carnal
statues turn to dust
As daylight sets
for the coming of the deciding dawn
A tremendous clash
hits the vanquished battlefield like a funeral storm
And finally as
dark turns to light,
A memorable
solitude of despised souls pushes within sight.
An elemental
light-crushing victory for men, so night shades are free to crawl,
Perpetual sounds
invoking prayers, hear them whisper and murmur.
An obsessed, even
doomed army graced by the devil's mark
A devious hunger
for a disgusting feast, strange illuminations to come
Wounds …
sinner … war
… breathing fire
Chaos … master
… flesh … trembling dawn
A burning throne,
absorbing all surrounding delight,
Gifted with cold
supremacy
A tearful, dark
time under the reign of one king
Thundering down
its divinity.
Fierce, unhearted
creatures inspired by a gloomy cohort,
Now guarding once
tender seashores.
Compassion being
erased, extinguished at the gates of dawn.
Tender dreams to
follow this course.