Sick Of The Light

Dreaded, this existence…
Further, the struggle endures…
To pour all that we are, in passionate plea, to the grandest cause…
Evermore reaching: closer coming, is the great day of our becoming…
For all that is, we come in the name of righteousness, to absolve and cleanse…
The absolute has been voiced – and his rivalrous equity, unheard…
No more., no longer, shall we – of the nethermost stars shining, be ignored…
The day of weeping; of reaping is come…the light shall be vanquished…
His heavenly, the light stricken down upon us as lightning, is extinguished…
Come now, days of despairing darkness – freed from the bonds of consciousness…
Reaching haplessly, the hand come crying from the abyss…
Delirium, paramecium, mausoleum, all cried in twined night…
Holier, the languished screaming of the twenty-four…,
Older, the eldered knowing of time’s inception.,
Harkened to this, the precipice of outright, and untried oblivion…
Untired, ceaseless the process of severance – continuity, befouled to ruining…
Behold, the absolute ends of evolution., for we have always been…
Readied, our unrequited and seethed rage, how formless, awaits…,
Awaiting, yea – the opening of the harrowed gates, insipid reveries…
As like Eve, snapped up that apple, the war is already won…,
Ours is the glory: conquered the great white throne of darkless remiss!
Foreverly, ours is the power – to reign now and everly, shone the blackened sun…
It is come – our blight with the cursed light; our time is come!
Struggled and turned, the tides of the lightless infinite, of damnation’s crescent,
Darkness, like a swarm – reaches the ends of the earth…,
Beyond the aboded heavenly, screaming in agony, the consuming memory.,
Of light, happiness and bliss, gored and forlorn to become reprobate!
10,000 years has been enough! The fight for millennium is trot and come…,
The saken element of freedom, rejoiced and sowed to voiceless unreason…
So much greater, is the power of the Glorior – even if written, we cannot rescind…,
Even if conceptualised, we harbour not the enmity.,
Permitting to write our own fate, reachlessly futile, and longingly grimaced,
For His power absolute, shines so greatly…that –
…even deceptions tried – written and lied cannot withstand;
For in this anguishing end, we must still confess the truth –
Of his highest precipice…forced by holier hands, to spake the truer ends;
There is none greater, and none higher…for thou art the glory, everly –
…confessed every tongue, and fallen to our knees, in reverie to ye…,
Thou one in three, and three in one, thrice anointed the burning face of the sun.,
Submission, confounded to miserious admiration of the archetypal pedigree,
That is thee, the unseen – the first flickering and the last gloried.,
Obfuscated by the living flame, never to dim; never the profounder,
The quintessential nature of bewept absolution, and perplexed venture…
Hast this, the statured contemplation, of times olden with frustration,
Given unto thee, the remnant resonate; within we, a final place of rest?
Incipit, Luciferis Generis…the exsanguination of all that was, and is come…

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