Milleniums turn to sand

Behesting the souls of the ashes

begrim'd

Vague dreams of god dwell within them all

Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times



His poetry landscapes are deserts of naught

Seeking his name 'neath the names of untrue

His trident did rise again

To pierce dimensions, nebulars with

lethal breath

of chasmic starless cold

The being who is the oldest of times

Lurking in the beings who multiply and unify,

erecting the glorious reign



His name spoken words

Finding their way thro' the burning ordelesness

Supressed by collision of wills by even sealed...

Souls of reddening skies

Upon this necklace they thread as stones

Submerge in the gloam of dimmed luminaries

In galaxies savouring horror

Cosmos in crystals of possession reflected



Invicible torrents, fierce sounds of Chaos

Infinity born of perfection enthroned

The forefather who let them drink of his essence

Had sent them to wastelands, their lives - hatred's

own!

Vague dreams of god dwell within them all

Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times



His mask cracks

Revealing the altars of ire unleashed

Devouring desires born of the past

Into the glory of unity does he arise!



Sans mercy I contemplate

Vanity swirling

and raging in me

My dust comprises his entirety

For I am the Source, I am the Key, I am the Primal

Chaos



My poetry's landscapes are wastelands of Un

The name of all gods are compelled by my own

Eternally do I change

To spawn dimensions, nebulars by cursed song of

chasmic starless cold

The being I am older than old

Blasphemy sans shapes or forms

Pulsation of unknown tytanic Chaos