The eerie God

Fulgent dust the prelude of the drowning sun

Bloodstained sculptures across amorphous reliefs

The angelic blaze; ancient their silent choirs

Torn apart the pure aorta of apathy



Dissolution of gentle seas, the lost brilliance

Hateshaped the billow of thorns

How should I enthrone my pain



I have no more tears that

embrace my pure parfum

seduced my by mournful gale

the blood will never return



I have no more weeps that

caress the stoned heart

at one with a mournful tear



Artesian well the aphorism in it is deep

Aura of aghast bane the disburden of azure

Diurnal sleep the eerie bloodstained God