A shimmer trace of divinity lost
in the beckoning midnight frost
(We are) lulled within the wake
of a cold November's nightfall.
Nightfall...
A communion of life and eternity,
of Races scattered in the depths
of universal darkness.
Above me minds went sailing free
blossomed in a primordial soup
Of the nocturnal sea.
Paragon of beauty,
Oh, spark of Creation;
Instincts march to the rhythm of Night.
Starborn flew the Dove of Humanity
in the eventide of life,
whose wonders crowned
our yesterdays with light.
We lived beneath the
waning moon of truth
And danced in hunger
for the Power of mind
( And of Youth)
Like the dark to a dying Flame;
Sweepingly embracing
its grieving remains
Defiantly blazing the black that awaits
Counting the days 'til the new Age breaks
Times' lustful cyclones arise,
Piercing the fairest of Skies
In the elysian awakening of spiritual glory
we see what our history believes.
Meadows of Asphodel
Burning in the hunted dawn
Tragedies die among fiery flames
as the firewood of Wisdom
is engulfed in pain.
Our Guardians were blind!!
Our lightbringer ephemeral !!!
Within the heart of all;
A cold and dusky melancholy night,
as ever sullied the fair face of light
Whose seeds of life they grind
To dust, of vapour is our mind
...ever more...
Paragon of beauty,
We move like the unreadable
to the rhythm of the Night.
No real life
No spark of Creation...
Nightfall by the shore of time,
a tidal wave of fire and woe
Swept away with the last of life
the core of the enigma now bestowed..
Communion... Within the universal Oversoul
We are but fragments of Eternity,
pale shadows In life's outer regions
I will find the foremost Tranquility
Chanting the odes of Magonia, Magenta..
A soulstream in flight to the Otherworld
...to the Otherworld
©infj-loki
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