this our Sphere forged wrong waning and falling on its knees
how often were the Gates pursued to remind
we dared not despite our heresy transgress against the axis mundi

of Darkness

Only you profess to have seen visions  vague and misdirected
But how true was your troubled heart
and did they amidst plundered 
and chaos hear the plea?

Madness and desperation now lend the Weary to a welcome friend
She awaits the flaw, grows not a day even beside eons’ stay
Come calling at her feet
and signal a cloud to provide as the darkest prophecy is proved
Have you been blessed by the Hand of Fate?

tears not always enough
time has ground away at my fingers
shrink away  from the chill

without shame
abort the shifting visage and seek shelter
shivering endlessly 
yet the end not in sight 
futile attempt to strangle this crimson stream
  
slowly almost a dead crawl at the fount of Seraphim
at what cost do I linger

The Epilogue.

well of dreams                                                                                        
(host of spectres abide) an overflow
 I find no sense in daylight’s stare
hidden sun where to find for while the delay 
grayish cloak also harms Luna’s face comes scathed

Remember now why we kept so silent,
 watching you pray
Only in this meandering chant or twisted verse recited
 often unheard
 do we find

our strongest bastion
our renewed enlightenment
our consoling providence
Our Restoration to Grace