To Tell of Burning Heaven

4/19/04

The bubbling miasma of putrescence unleashed . . .

Beneath the tree-lined faux comas,

And choked intestinal breaths,

Lay tar black remains of infallible wax.

The gleaming of Sapphire eyes has expired

Leaving only the thin crackled husk of release.

Solely the listeners who hang from the Dreams

Know of this hushed nighttime revelry.

Angels have whispered and fallen from Grace

Lending chill bitter winds to threads of Fate

I longed for the ending and Darkness complete

So when the seven bridges opened unto Hell

We stole the ancient curses whole,

Seven keys to seven gates burnt and black,

And left behind the petty hurting,

Grasping at the elusive promise of Truth . . .