Caught when I was still a child

By a terrible vision of my Christ

And caught in the throat by your signs and tears and goodbyes



I picked me up

And walked too far

With thought of no return

And not to see your face again and drowning all my hopes

And wishing no longer upon stars



Believing

No longer in moonlight

Or other dreams or other fields

Upon all of which we so beautifully play

I saw a waste of all



And so I put away

All talk of death's heads

And a little glimpse is a bloodblossomed force

And all talk of apocalypse



Apocraphon and Apollyon

Abaddon

All abandoned

Then I saw in myself the bowl and a gun

And the glory that was to come