The Antiquation

Behold, Despair is the foundation, and…loathing the iniquitous foundry,
For the hapless hopelessness, the regret and longing.
In eternalness so profound, yea, the eternal dimming so wanes at my soul…
With such unprofessed heartache, of profoundest defeat – how’t,
The weight of the sun is so gloomily laden,
With such professed disdain, and sorrowful impetus.
Ov agonized repletion so forlornly begotten in lost light,
Where the dimming is endless, and the essence of darkness is measurable,
As it has weight, traversed longingly bewept,
The starry vastness of the emptiness; yea,
Where ghosts are restless, and spiritual embodiments are forebadem,
Within sweet solace, within utmost quietus…
I sit emptied upon a throne of nothingness,
Awash and adrift forlornly more…encompassed absolutely,
By the despairing truths of graven negation,
Bequeathed upon the cornerstone of loneliness, enraptured; yonder,
To the finality of my great unspeakable and inescapable torments.
Where perdition and antiquity reign forever so palely…
Where I am confined to my infinitely regressive mind,
Assured of one certainty, that is – the waning of this…
Tormenting reprisal shall sleep nor drift not.
Where thought and essence exist forevermore,
With plague and sorrow overwhelming, yearning for but one thing…
Her warmest embrace, if only for a glimpse into
Her majesty and supreme beauty…how I dream one day,
My first love, my first and last completing remnant of rendition,
Will give unto me – a semblance of clarity.
To be antiquated in ruin, to be so profoundly attuned,
To have intimacy with human persons is nothing,
Whence compared to oneness with the negating void of the Christ;,
For the voided darkness is so welcoming as it is foreboding…
There is a sense of closeness, of dualism and finality.