The tainted quill is loose

The legend of Chaos, the story of old,

The one whisper forbidden and foretold:

The rotten soil is sullen with skulls of broken promises.

Suns abjure in eclipse their effulgence.

The moon conjures the tenebrous goddess

And stars fulfill a sinful baptism.

The foundation of the cathedral shivers in resurrection.

Bells roar a rusted apocalyptic lament…

She is here… the goddess… Akasha!

She has heard the plea of the new world…

Mortals are in disbelief, ecstatic thru grief,

And the immortals roam the land once more.

The dungeon is decomposed in enticing ruins

And shackled she finds there the tainted quill.

“Unfold the shrouds of chaste afterlife,

Carve into the enchanted nails,

Flood with viscous rust the gory shackles of silence!

Entomb him venal into the thirteen Elysium Field

And conceal him deep in the coffin of the abyss!

His venomous ink and mutated shape

Are the ambrosia and nectar of our decayed souls!”

Her words are law and winds carry them out

Thru dragon’s blaze and the fallen angel’s shout,

Otherworldly wraiths obey the bidding outright.

The chains fall heavy with shrieking utterance

Cleaving the skies of their innocent skins,

Disemboweling the clay shapes that come alive,

The exalted dust births ravens, who tell gypsy stories,

And glyphs and runes embellish in shadows that thrive.

Shackles become contaminated with a haunting mist

And crumble into fiendish apparitions,

While the enchanted nails are engraved in emerald spells

Of spine-chilling disenchantment…

A tombstone is ravaged upon the parchment’s epitaph

And denuded nymphs enact

Fleshly sacrifices,

Burlesque waltzes…

Afraid aliens absorb antimony.

Cadaveric chimeras charm crazy clouds.

Demons drill damnation.

Eerie elf engineers environments.

Witches wander wanton weaving wastelands.

Bizarre blood boils –

The tainted quill is loose upon eternal eons!

The legend of Chaos, the story of old,

The one whisper… forbidden and foretold!