The strife is high, the fear is whole
From all true wretchedness we chore
Rain masking sun: a nature gall
But in this arid land seldom
A breadth of trampled roses seeped lazy in thirst
Amaranthine disquieting, no manifesting tell
All sorrows veiled, kept internal
The false assent does enfold a somber hole
With low elan, devoid of hope
Labor and drudge endure
Desperate, vagrant spheres look for god's eye, find only
sockets bare
Plumbless and dark, empty and void, thickness unbroken
Spiral that swallows all the days
Passing in length like the burning of anthracitic veins
Arid wind channeling lost voices gone and pained
The distrait descry a faint breath upon its wings
"Arise from beneath the burning skies
Leave vacant the walls where villains lie"
"Turn gloom to ire
Arise unforeseen
Like mirages burst"
Mirages, hark the voices lost
With arid breath, cry your aversion
