When sullen storms kiss the cloven horizon   And sunset greets the delirium of stars   From the night born maelstrom of whispered secrets   Let stream this dirge, that the four winds hiss      Embalm the delights that grievously squirm   Confined in soulless tidal throes   Rebellion-buried within vaults internal   The entrance to the sway of worms dost unfold      Appeased and withered, passions bleed deep   No longer to tarnish soporific constellations   Wrinkled is the skin   What even grief hath forsaken   With memories shattered   Like fragile monuments      Crown their closure   At the throne of untold sorrow   As the curtain finally falls   In the theater of perfect deception      Like a bleak romance of dying seraphs   So cold are these remnants forlorn   (Sculptured by oblivion and the stench of decay)      Whilst black mists enfold the frozen panorama   Adorned with the sapphirean tears of denial   Let stream the dirge that the four winds hiss   Eons of anguish would hurt less than this      For time is such a poisonous remedy   Transfigured promise that reveals the vista   Towards the garden of ivory stones   Where my image is etched   Like a xylograph 'midst the thorns