The eerie God

Fulgent dust the prelude of the drowing sun

Bloodstained sculptures across amorphous reliefs

The angelic blaze; ancient their silent choirs

Torn apart the pure aorta of apathy

Dissolution of gentle seas, the lost brilliance

Hateshaped the billow of thorns

How should I enthrone my pain

I have no more tears that

embrace my pure perfume

Seduced by my mornful gale

The blood will never return

I have no more weeps that

Caress the stoned heart

At one with a mornful tear

Artesian well the aphorism in it is deep

Aura of aghast bane the disburden of azure

Diurnal sleep the eerie bloodstained God

(Ref.)