Give what is wanting, for what is longing…
There is no peace amidst the place of brokenness.
Crying out, reaching your hand — beyond the coldest graven precipice…,
Do what must be done; forfeiture, give yourself to the screaming winds of abandon.,
Fulfil your purpose: walk ye farthermost into the darkness of abyss.
The path narrowing, the woven fate unwinding; dwindling, the scent of what was – to the unkindly world, given up to the cruellest embracement of these wandering times; waning, the conceptual undertaking of all that is…,
Tremble nearer, the heights you’ve fallen – now forgotten, but forsaken to the depths awing; bewildering, this spirit so vainglorious, doomed to forever reminisce…of glory felled, and joy robbed., of what greater despair, is there than that of these lonely and darkest nights, filled with glooming recollection, of times past, and yearnings left unfulfilled?
Left wanting, of longingly unforgettable, and haplessly irredeemable falling…,
Dauntingly, haunted by the eeriest semblance of grace once lost.,
So far, removed from the presence of the ever-shining,
Grimaced, to reprobate mind, and fainted wondering…,
How long lost!
Evermore drowning, efficacious to the nameless erased: to affinity with the bleakest distancing, of effigy, flickering further and more, the fading light of gloried sun…if foreverly withdrawn from your grace — condemn me not, to the nothingness of the vanishing darkness…
Epoch of the unspoken – the gracelessly graven!
For comfort is abounded in founding, daintily the dimmest of darkening twilight.,
Twined, the heartache so blessed, the caressing of the blacked and soundless abyss.,
Be thee, slaine in glorious darkness; be thee baptised, in the fires of renowned quintessence, befouled to enamoured unreason., given as an embittered gift…to the four cornerstones – of the unseen shores; of oblivion’s trifling crescendoing, and fate’s grandest eminence: all in your thrice anointed name., all for fervently gained fame: apostasy, the grand befalling…, drink from the cup of seditions so seasoned, to iniquitous perdition!
A longing for an affinity with darkness…
A fanaticism with Satan…
An obsession with the macabre…
A swaying by the dark spirit…
An affinity with the dark…,
These, I have always been of essence to;
Of these, I am belonged to…
Do you feel the grace ripping away?
Do you feel the void taking its place?
A paining remembrance…,
A waning continuum…
I am come again!
T3TInnovations 