Guest
The height of the walls Brings the echo of heart-rending howls Breaking the silence’s unsparing hold Where my throat is near-fatally choked There I reside The haggard sight Got sick of uniformness It seeks for the pleasure In the murk and the wails The end of the day Will provide you with disarray Jostling away from itself Once abundant garden rots Intead of fruit it spawns the mold And flesh of those who raised it up It turned to filth, it turned to dung The wellspring wilts but still it flows Instead of water bringing cold So serve us food and let us drink For tomorrow we decease For tomorrow shall we decease Sources, irrevocably lost Filling up the cups of perished ghosts Opened consiousness Is marching towards the abyss Gouging out its eyes Erring that it’s blinded by the radiance Ripping out its womb Realizing it’s Enticed by the fruit From the serpent’s hand What was on the top Now falls overboard The heaven is silent And are sung all the songs What we have left Is to perpetuate To fold our sacred mold For again do we gaze At the closure of the gates Alike our archetype has done No repent but lament No tears to shed No more voice to scream and weep The wellspring wilts but still it flows Instead of water bringing cold The final sailing will drown us all When we dive into the unknown Nothing will remain Nothing will remain What’s left for us is dwelling in hell
