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!
