Kneel,

Before the sunset of epoch

Eve of omens gathers me

To weep the fall of Astraea



Seals,

Of shaped dogmas famish

Misery forges stream anthems,

Lies of tortured patriarch



Seek,

Zeaphon seek and always find

That prophecy forms circle

And diviner has forked tongue



So falleth the morning spear

These lunar mantras of heresy,

Whispered in costumes of day

To merge and the invade.

Nightfall summons vigil

So dies the oath, and oblivion

Vanished pyres of midnight,

The fall of Astraea



Bleed,

Gabriel bleed and always scream

All thy archlies sweet

Never belived and yet obeyed



Sleep,

Ithuriel sleep and always dream

Fabled utopia of grace

Nevermore