Desolate World

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Horror in numbers too great to discern
The rotting of worlds to the conqueror worm
And love a rare orchid so fragile in bloom
Espied gasping breath under dark sheeted moons

Shining Feriluce
Reflected in jaded mirror
Climbing from the noose
Of time in divine servitude

And thus a strange new melody
Of will and wanton fantasies
Whetted by the veiled, seen
Danced from his ashen lips
In red dawn scores, the silver scream
Of truth and her deleted scenes
Was taken up as far, it seemed
As God his words eclipsed!

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