The rose would wither without love,
The heavens would crumble from high above,
The dove would lose its sorrowed song.
And the light would fall into shadowed wrong.
Misery would rule in love's place,
And the heart would slow its timely race.
The trees would lose their flowered joy,
And the world would play deceits prized toy.
Tick, tock, the time is here,
Now the muses sing of fear.
A stranger looks upon thy face,
And finds but a mirror in its place.
As the fire burns with a wicked light,
Friends and enemies flee in fright.
The snake rises in the ashes,
Its fangs against thy skin crashes.
The venom slowly taints the blood,
And liberates itself in a crimson flood.
Now the moon will starve and wane,
And pour from the clouds dark obsidian rain.
And who shall call upon the Gods
To come and save us from such odds?
Where is the savior with his sword?
Where is the savior, where is the Lord?
Chaos falls as if a veil,
Words of comfort now old and stale.
An empty book, from page to page,
Torn by hands controlled by rage.
Temptation will cloud your precious sight,
And madness will fall upon thee in blight.
Battle will rip and shred till all is torn,
No one is here, no savior is born.
Home 
Subject: The state of affairs 
Thu Nov 22, 2007 8:14 am
