The Promise of Abyss

A sense of apocalypse…,
The perplexing sense of it,
The pained scent of reminiscence.,
Encompassed, by all that I feel – in despair, so lowly and unhealed,
Absolved, never-the-more; the morrow of the spirit, confound to baneful horror,
I sense.  I smell.  I feel.  It is all-encompassing., this intoxicatingly,
Overwhelming conglomeration of darkest ideal – of dreams wept,
Tears undried, and cries unheard – the venerating conceivability…,
Of the utmost vastness of such unhinged glory.,
How’t, I cannot comprehend – how’t,
I am lost to condemnation, never commendation…
Harrowed, harrower – the plight of loss…
Darker, this kind of dreaming…
Inevitable, this forlorning fleeting…
Awash, the perditions, sinless and awry…
Vanishing, the gleaming distancing of the dimming, and utmost glare –
Of the faintest flickering, yearningly fallen to the darkness, so consuming…
Forgetless – memoryless; the glimmer of the highest mind.,
Immortalized, the spirits requited to reconciliation,
Lamenting, the spirits’ moor so poorly fainting…,
Faintly, the remissive overture of sung sadness, left resonating,
The faintly glimmering of hope, quickly fleeting, ever treading.,
The darkness, soon overcoming – the caressing,
Romantically, befouled to aroused emanation…,
Dreading, the dreadsome nature of quintessence given to ruinous fating,
Nascent, the ever-blessing gift of blindness refound.,
Accessioned, the ascension, frameless and trembling,
Execration, why the waters seem tremble…,
Nescience, the apiaceous divagation, of life reborn in death, endless,
Refluxed, the revisited crimsoning, of the skies screaming.,
Execrable, the glorious tirade of the angels falling as torrential rain…

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