The Everlasting, The Everflickering…

Romance is immortalized,
love is unending,
Behold the weightlessness of time, and the shapelessness of despair…

Life is symbolic in its semblance to that of a snowman…
For we have our moment, for we have a season,
Where the sun does shine upon us,

Where light was shone and made us glimmer…
As seasons come and go, so do we fade,
Into distance and irr-remembrance.

The everlasting, the everflickering…
The darkness so long unawakened,

The despair so overtaken,
The blurring, the distortions so bleak,
The life without you, so coldly harrowed,
The vividness unimaginable, the bitter truths so hurtful,
What is left, without your embrace?

Wallowing places of distantly vast,

And desolately amassed remembrance,
And for what does this mind resonate?
Without you, the world is a cold emptiness, a wasting place…
Without your presence here,
Existence is forfeited to shades so deludingly imperfect,
Of faces so unimportantly awash,
The abysmal shores of reprised thought,
The seas of forbearance, the sands so inglorious,
The glimmer so unappealing, the shimmering so unreservedly contorting,
The haplessly disdained so conflicted and maladapted,
In undeservedly vainly bewildering, in places of vastness,
In lands of discordance, existing is the greater essence,

The once gloried, the last defeated, the kingdom evermore,
Lost is this graceless grimace, this place of erring emptiness,
Stirred and rewound, where light shineth forever,
And the everlasting expansively envisage.
Here lie the ashes of the unconquerable,
Forbadem to eternalness so darkly dimming,
Until the last light is shone,
And the unreachable rescind,
To the dissolution of this faintly indimutible soul,
Whence they wait conquering,
Where they are forsake to the same dainty fating,

Of reprobated pureness, ever-glorious to immured quietus,
Enveloped foreverly, this quenchless torment,
Where then, amassed the reputed, set aflame the pearly gates,
Inheriting, now, this far east of Eden, the childless night,
The unvanquished fight, where eternally the soundscapes…
Are of nightmarish compositions,
In servitude to the unconquered glorior…
So great is this darkening displace,
Of graveness and harrower embrace.

The Process Of Dehumanization

Animosity comes before pride,
Which is but indifference – longingly mournful reprise,
Let the sorrow languish within, let the dark stir,
And let the waters drown you.  Inhale the flames,
Fall prey to the consuming waters, let your lungs fill up,
And allow death one final appeal.. –
Give unto those what they have given unto you,
Stand up righteously and justly, proud and confident; –
Make your name, earn your time under the sun, become something,
Be acknowledged, for the sun is so radiant in its brilliance,
That it always shines somewhere – as the sun is, so are you.

Befoul the innocent not, but give wisdom,
And share glory – for you too, were once…
Impoverished and disinherited,
For you too were once conquered and defeated.
Respect is only given unto those that earn their statuses,
And the riches of the flesh, for those whom seek out the simplest of things. 

Know this: the envious are only forbadem in their lonesome somnolence,
For they long and they wish for what you have…
– They yearn for warmth, love and beautiful embrace.
Those with love and caress, they have everything –
Those without these things know it, and they despise the stupid,
The spoiled and the selfish, as one who has been impoverished takes care of,
And looks out for, his loving embrace…beholden…

The glory of justice, the despairing foundation,
Boundlessly forsaken, and endlessly taken – advantage of,
Abused and misused, for self-gain, for game,
Impurity is iniquitous, and the deadening harrow,
The make of us – for we are of one essence,
A singularity, an entwinement of confounding confliction,
A perplexing prism…beholden,
We are the inhabitants of the dusts,
The inheritors of the grave, and the veering abyss,
Which gazes so curious, to the stars.

Exaltations & Exhortations

The darkest one is exalted, for he is higher, for he is greater;
Beholden, the power of the grave, death and fire –
Befall upon the power of the air, the water and the times.
Risen, yea: risen he is…for all shall fall in worship,
Callously and cowardly forced to their knees,
In shamed disregard for the prince of the powers of air and antiquity.
The time is come! Rise up, ye solemn and disgraced!
Rise up, ye who have been dealt injustice and inequality!
Rise here and now…behold this moment, the momentous clarity,
That is the mind of God, how’t the eternal always see…
Live: now…for all that sleeps and eternally rests in death…
And unrivalled remnant shall rise to see again –
The day of wrath, the day of glory, untold…
Breathe in this coldly voluminous air, and listen in longing…
For the darkly heralding trumpets of besotted terror,
So defeating, yet so satisfying…is the midnight harkening!
Embodiment, entombment, displacement and distemper,
They are the foundations of eternally and…
Contrite constructs of unrighteous reverence.
Hark, hark, and herald, oh herald, these lowly dark angels scream…
With anguish, and in the fields of fire ever-burning,
Lays dormant the key to the absolute secrecy:
Yea, he is risen, for none but the father himself can dare,..
Open the gates to the great abyss…
For such ancient deviltry live withering…
In this place of smoking torment, endlessly fuelled by animosity and negation.
Only one has the comprehendible capacity to unleash the beast –
The great dragon of revelation…the war-bringer,
The second power, second to the highest of all…
A precipice so invaluably tremendous, and so parsimoniously extravagant,
That even the angels that are beset upon the four cornerstones
Of the holy golden and white throne shalt become sceptics.

This restless evil, rivalrous in contemptuous wrath and darkly-contorted glory,
Of fury so unbridled, so unsettled and distantly incomprehensible…
A place beyond the stars, a wormhole of essence,
A whirlwind of thought – an entwining of dualisms so wise and adorned,
Conjoined into this place of flowing water and fiery convergence;,
Damnation hath awaken, and heaven fleetingly deconstruct.
And in truth, how sorrowfully I implore the harrowing dichotomy
Of darkened allegiance, thus verily…
Must be noted, that evil cannot be destroyed,
For every act of vengeance that befalls wickedness,
Only empowers the powers of the air.
There is no ending for the antithesis of light,
For the opposite of the Hebrew God.
Likewise, God is unending, so both are immortal,
As well sworn enemies…eternal.
For their conflict, and their struggle wager on forevermore,
In eternal war, and constant battle, for the crown of absolution,
For the seat of wisdom, most holily glorified upon…
The great white throne of midnight.
There is this passion within solemnity,
Within loneliness and longing; yea,
Though these negations are disheartening,
And though they are defeating in their dispirit,
There is a comfort of a sort – a painful and darkening comfort of a sort:
One with the dark, to be touched by the void…
Only those so afflicted by vastness and longing; yea,
Only those of whom know nothing but sorrowful lament
And lonely existence can even conceive of this all-consuming abstraction.
It’s a rekindling fire whose flame never suffocates,
A ghostly abrasion of which knows no happiness, but only death and desolation.
He, who stretches his hands out over the sum of the heavens…
He whom painted the night sky, and he whose power is unrivalled.
Glory to him, the king of kings…the eternal one,
Beholden the mystery of the highest!

The Mournful Seas

Behold, the eternal seas of reprisal:
Of longing and mournful shadows cast over,
The oceans of uproar and upheaval – awash and stirred,
So longingly and unendingly, the oceans tremble with ferocious revelry,
With thundering voices clapping as roaring winter winds…
The sea beholds all darkness in such coldly remorseless bleakness –
The oceans shroud all things, of secrets and antiquities,
To mysteries and iniquities…the endless oceans roar in thunderous upheaval,
They are torn asunder by the clasps of daybreak, and veiled by midnight.
The oceans are filled with regret and sorrowful lament,
For they weep in solemnity, for their forbearance is unwept,
In untimely calamity, but…within retired humanity.
The eternal oceans rise, drowning man’s iniquities evermore,
The shores are stirred amidst chaos, awash…beholden,
The waters of transgression, the rivers of convergence,
For the diluted emptiness of glory once embraced,
Of awakened instantiable inception – to the embrasure of unknown,
And unseen perfection, foreverly more, now forlorn…
There exists deep within the eternal waters an unrivalled antithesis,
An angel cast down from the glory of his own splendour,
Of his own sedition – into darkness beheld perdition,
Shackled and imprisoned under the weight of the world,
With the sun keeping guard – know he will rise,
Know he shalt not be confound to defeat,
Though rather he shall wait for that momentous opportune,
For he is preying kingly, with gloomed eyes set on you.

Predestination

Beyond the stars, there lays bound a beauty…
Enshrouded in wallowing and darkly glimmering mystery.
That void we feel is of more than longing and reprobation,
It is of impassion and regret…we are unfulfilled in our contorted longings,
We are empty beyond fathomable expression, in our conflictions.
Suicide seems to be the only soluble solution, venue or mechanism for escape
… Embrace the emptiness, feel the darkness,
And welcome the waning negation shrouded in nihilism.

Love tears at more than the heart,
As heartache is inexpressibly and harrowingly wallowing…
It eats at the very febricity, the narrowing spirit…so,
Yea I say: the insufferable torment is without reprieve and reprisal…
There is no end to this torment, there is no hell like this,
This is the lowest point, this is the place of bottomless perdition.
In assurance, I swear, in unsound and naked truth,
How verily, the caress of the darkest void is inescapable,
Once alone, always alone, and this is the unshelled truth.

If doomed from inheritance, one is doomed to eternity’s precipice…
Just when you think the pain can’t hurt any more,
It deepens so; and it takes your very breath and spiritual essence.
Thusly, leaving you coldly bewildered awash in discontent,
Asunder…under the palely ill-conceived diffusionism,
Of forlornly foreboding darkness, and of the cold ocean’s weight,
Encompassing you within its infinitely vast spectrum,
Of torments so unawakened; – in crushing defeatism.
The weight of the immeasurable, that is despairing infused darkness,
Entombed wholly, without remorse, forgiveness,
Redemptive liberation or momentous ceasing…
From the eternal forebodes of the abyss and her unreachable antithesis.

Solemnity In Solace (Weeping Willow)

Adrift, nearing the point of sleep – alone and cold,
On a night so grimly forebode, pondering and considering,
All of my life’s happenings, knowing I lay alone, in curious…
Wonderment, but because of my cruelty, nihilism and immutability. 
I lay here, staring through the pane, watching the frozen rain,
Fall far from the sky…feeling as hapless, as though I am to die,
For whence every moment a flake hits the soiled ground. 
I lay here, Understanding, I am so cold, and also so alone –
Even on this eve of nights, this ere many call Christmas night…
So coldly forlorn, and so pressingly bewildered by mine
Despairing state of Quietus, forsake…
There is much joy and much splendour on this night of beauty so weathered,
However I implore – That the dreary do still endure…
There is also terrible suffering amidst vastness and sorrow,
Through so many minds, longingly wandering, with hopelessness and dispirit,
The soul is set asunder – by the plunder of desperation,
And the…resplendence and thunder. 

Understand me, and you will yearn no more,
For understanding is presently adorned – oneself,
Then threefold, will you please hear this old souls’ last confess? 
I plead without contest, for my Story has never reached…
– The eyes which see, or the ears which hear, nor the tongues which taste,
… Or the skin which feel;
yea, and not even the nerves have sensed
… These hallmarks of languishing affliction,
Nor has the brain which comprehend all things, found valid petition. 

If there is one thing to be said for the night,
As for this eerily starry twilight,
It is in you I Regrettably confess my sorrowfully lament,
It is the laden riddance of my iniquitous Contempt…
For we are the pioneers of our own life,
And the most copious enemies of our own reprise –
Such rivalry and disdain, so profound is the aching pain… 
To death, and beyond, how harrowingly contrite,
The journey through life, so violent in Hindsight –
The mightily defeated, and the blighting conquering,
Are of essence so sound, pure In a void of solace redound…
Where martyrdom exists no more in its infame,
And the flickering Of life nevermore in its fearful disdain. 
I lay here, alone, on a night of joyous appraise, so cold and abandoned,
In desolation, thus astray; yea, I say, be rid of your contentions,
And free yourself of reaping profession. 

In this, I soundly declare, the weeping is too much to bear,
Behold, the unravelled, and their contemptuous waning 
For the shadows so impeding, for the sparrow’s song is never 
Untravelled, nor a pride’s frowning unwind so contentedly unbridled…
Where giants are monolithically besought to traverses so distantly,
In tremendous confound; It is in eternalness,
Where one is enveloped by ones’ mind,
The hauntingly refracted are but ghosts of time,
Intertwiningly seditious in  unkindly bewept essence. 
It is here, I end my tale, of my tragedies so beholden,
To ruinous emptiness, awash in boundless regrets, and wallowing bereavement.  
Tonight I shall die, alone in coldly forlorn insignificance,
Only to be carried away, posthumously by the callous undertakers,
So voracious – never to be remembered, nor dejected to emplore –
The truly astonishing nature of life’s frailty, and grinning inevitability. 
In your longings, and in your yearnings, take heed to the wiser seers,
Find love, found family, and leave negation for the dead,
Let the world carry your heavy weight, you need simply
Forgive and let go – or be forgotten to the dusts of time,
And regressed to the abyssal colds.
Heed not this warning, I swear unto all that is holy –
You will find yourself nearer, to this lonely place of solemn regret,
You will be wept this same glooming bed.  
Where to, one is doomed to forfeiture and failure,
Alone in hateful contemplation, left with nothing but endless tears,
Only conjoined of thought and malcontent;
Alas, the final step is hell, surreal…joined to the grave,
Taken in hand by death’s languishingly reprobating, and darkening embrace.

The Distancing Sun

How foreboding, it is on this eerily dimming eve,
So darkly, the longingly dreary, beholdest, the unspoken supremacy…
Yea, the gates are so impurely pearly, though never witnessed,
See this, the place, so drearily empty and miserably weary.

How crushingly oppressive, is the great weight of the void,
Of this shapeless emptiness, endearingly full of forlorn dissidence;
Hearken, the despaired reality, for the truthilde…immortality,
Heralding, evermore the presence felt, though belled in embrace of precipice.

Where then, only time will live to tell, of perplexing conviction,
Utter-est, the distancing, and the ever-reaching, so innocent a respell,
Upon this broodingly, bleakest eve, this resplendence, filled with such decadence,
Resurgent unto reprieve, the mournfully bewildering remnants, of such retreats.

Of shores long agonized, how ruinously awash, overbearingly, they are now lost,
The formlessness of bornless meaninglessness, for this is the sickly vilest of remiss,
Here, amidst a sparking fireside, where the fires attest, this far from the abyss,
Of the light’s greatness, so ingloriously redound, but revelling, abound this scorn.

Afound this dank ground, where we only reminisce, to kiss upon sappy lips, this…
Haplessly bound atop the welled, worsening the blessedly perilled, without shifting,
Accursedly, in earnest pleading, buried deep, hopelessly underground, ever seen,
Amidst the misting gales, amassed, surreal, with gaping purulence, so iniquitous.

The failingly, profound; caressing the void, how comforting, is this grave darkening,
Hark, this beautifully blissless fading, amassed upon golden walls shone, cascading,
Distorted and sightless, heed those words, the immutable, and amiably fond truth,
This far, amicable, to the pinnacle of the regressed, and dastardly cynical, lastly.

As to this, a precipice of oblivion confound, here lay the graveness and uncrowned,
The sowing roots of wickedness adorned, trembling this wistfully saddened solace,
Of his kingly, antithesis, but yearned, for memory, past and future told, suppliant,
Where so faring, compellingly, the unblessed so daringly dismissed, of sorrowfully barren.

Afar, the beheld vastness so entreatingly misshapen, a faltered and dooming telling,
The gleaming nightside, the embers subside, wasting away at the ashes of the sun,
How’t, infinitely in-distantly, are those amber splendours, reviled distinctively,
Thus far undone, gleamed the envisage nevermore, to be embarked or glorified, now.

Adrift, somnolence, be but gifted in wallowing and decay, with loathing astricken,
Whilst life forgotten, now deathless, but left smouldering in deviltrous disarray,
The colourless harrow so darkly stark, for there is no hell like this, profitless,
Repudiated, is this side of the tided nihilist, cometh forth, the superbly renowned.

Thus depleted, the reputed remnants contest of those painted on blank canvases,
Long ago stricken, to desolated landscapes,  far away, behest,  of the antipathetic,
As are the misanthropically flagellate, impetuously given to this, a massless fain,
Of graven remembrance; so is the sanded essence, the summit, forborne manifest.

The light is unreachable, the darkness inescapable, and hope inexistent, slumbered,
Comforts long entroped, vanquished and flooded, here, now, enthroned, amid this,
Befallen to the quieter aspect, of wallowed screams deceivingly abdicate to revelry,
Cowardice, that lecherous fleeting commendably, held they the shaming ceremony.

Though, cruelly and aimlessly, the blind shall never again see the bleakest of reality,
Welcome to this place; beholden, the grave’s darkening embrace, how maddening,
Forsaken, fallen to reprobation, how defeating, the dereliction of weeping evermore,
To such disuse, of revocation, suffered this abandonment; this far – from paradise.

Now doomed, to massed and graceless symphony, bindingly withheld to tragedy,
To this everlasting, and ruling disrepair, given this far away, arisen no such reform,
For solemnly eternal, is the grimacing void, so lone confessedly, befaulted by  pride,
Forsakenly, bound to the precipice of the dark endless, where prayer long ago died. 

All but sadly indebted, to eternities of powers unrivalled, thus’t conquered aground,
In summed quintessence, fearful of the ever-flickering, foreverly, doomed, falling,
Afire, regretting the solace of this damned place, sloughing ye days so suffered,
Contemptuously, threadlessly woven, breathlessly unspoken, ruinously, and,

Unendingly…the darkness entombing, will thou, with sincerity, wilt thee?
There is none greater, there is none higher, beseech me this moment under,
Your glorious uplift, infinitely reaching are your compassionate hands,
So convincingly edifying, your vocational commands, embrace me your…
Holiest presence, for one gleeful gaze upon your countenance,
Will sustain thine essence,
forevermore… even,
Blinded by the absence of your unreachable light.


Be thee hapless no more, let loose, go freed,
From his overbearing, erase his image,
But from the fruitless tree, denoted,
Where mourning is bliss, forevermore drowning,
Bewilderingly, in the bottomless abyss,
Be lustfully consumed by the fires, inextinguishable,


For this is home to the hopeless spires, duality, treacherously;
Endarkened, faithlessness in graceless’d perdition,
Wrought in spite of the serpent, asunder,
From errs of timelessness, and t
herefore, we insist, how’t now,
In this, we confess, these fragments are begotten and unheard, nevermore to desist.

The Daily Lament O’ Recurrently Remit

Every moment of every day…
This’t what I feel…everyday…
How’t, death seems fleeing, and life forever fleeting…
Every moment, of every day, hara-kiri envisaged,
In this bliss found within reverent thought,
With deference and consideration of death, evermore…

Inexpressibly, oh, child, I know your pains,
I know your suffering…do you know mine?
I ask of thee, do you believe in me now?
Forsaken, begotten, desolated and wrought down,
With great and wrathful force, I am boundlessly doomed
…to glooming pits of iniquitous abyss…know you suffering?
Know you the pain, the longingly lost voiding?
Of regret, forlorn, foreshadowed, and bewept?

Every day, another remnant of my being is stripped away,
Deteriorating more and more, this way, every day,
Every day, more of me is but stricken; and disarrayed…
Astray, more of my mind, stricken, by the day, every day,
More of mine essence is washed away…like unto the fray,

Every moment, sorrow is imprudent, and my mind afraid,
This moment, despairing existence seems…redeeming, in its’ own way,
So gloomily rapacious, in its entropic denouement of my soul’s dismay,

For every moment, of every day, I’m found at the eld oak tree: won’t you stay?
Nearing the cold and mournful shores, until finally I am awash,
Forevermore, slipping away.

Protected: Existentialism; The Disinherited, and the Impoverished

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The Snowstorm

This inexpressible waning,
This longingly disheartening enumeration,
This gaping, widening, monolithic and negating void,
Of vastness and vexatiously, consuming encumbrance
of dispiritedly disparaging endlessness, so unfulfilled.
This harrowingly terrible, and great graveness,
Of such profoundest sorrow, this despairing is unendingly unendurable,
I can’t sleep, and I struggle to simply breathe, is this the fate of the meek?

It’s exhausting, as it is terrifying and demoralizing,
In this state of being, I walk wetted by mine own tears,
As though, asphyxiating and drowning in my gleaming sorrow,
Oh, how I lament, light is never helpful, only this bleakest darkening,
That is to weepingly endure, though I am drained, I seem sustained…
It is as though, I am by ere, traversing against the unrivalled powers,
Of a blighting blizzard, of ferocious winds, so unrelenting,
To which are, remorselessly and forcefully stripping my garments,
As I attempt peering yonder, ahead, afar – to the dimming light,
It is now, seeming flickering, in its’ lost essence, farther away.

Pressing forward, and aided by nothing, festered with allusion,
Of grandiose disillusionment, but still, I am yet oppressed by the void,
To every element and spiritual bereavement; moonstricken, on this sad day.
As all, in eve and twilight, is leeringly desolated, and wearingly obfuscated,
The coldly forewarned, so harsh are these winds, so darkly forlorn,
The bewilderingly numbing, and awakened winds of sorrows untold.
O’ unfelt…this venture fatefully disdained, in unholy wallowing embrace,
Of the cold, veering to the lights, so distancing in their vanishing encroachment
That cursed pearly place, unreachable, seeming so disseated, in ravishing end day,
How, untouchable, the abyss is within, the essence so contorted,
This great confound, seemingly feels, and delves deeper amid.

The will so damning, yearning and wailing, all without surmised control,
Reaching, bits longer, lacking inhibition, the remissive contestation,
Unrestrained, in such crispness of negated nothingness, is this such abyss,
Now, so much nearer to the abated precipice, I find no such closure in the sated,
How defeated, malformed and depleted, how abhorrent, it is, to be ordained,
How undone, how posthumously, doth condemnation come gnawingly my way,
How ironic, for it is only now, that death and graven hell fire finally come.
The darkly ghastly are now disdainfully greeting me, knowingly nevermore,
Had this poorly and impoverished ached soul a chance, could it be, how’t …
That, this resplendence, so inglorious is but reprobation, in a form so pluralist,
Of a lesser redemption, shone selectively, to the maledicted insignificant?

Though now, surmised, in gale, so hauntingly surreal, there is but one thing,
This sickly truth revealed, but reveled and unbeveled, in splendour – uncompelled.
It is true, to what they say, hell hath frozen over, to my gravest dismay,
Hence tis ruinous revelation, now unveiled, is but struggled existentialism,
Oh, how now revealed, for there is a time coming, where seasons will cease,
The darkest time is now; truly, the unruly have for aeons, prevailed,
Into oblivion eternal,
I wander, as condemned to timeless dwelling, alone here,
Alas, and set asunder, the fearlessly persistent, how wondrous is this splendid,
This righteous presence of humbling embellishment, t
his terrible trembling,
For there is unsettling truth, though absolute, that is, we are not enemies,
To the finality of this grievous haplessness, hath it conquered this discontent?
Palely, is mine ghastlier soul, but forsaken to reprobate caressing,
To the eluded dereliction of such quietus, solemnly felled.

Brokenness and hopelessness are ruining in their dualistic dissonances,
The enormity, so distortedly revisited, but resonating, eternalness,
This, the summed emanating of a forbearance so apparently redound,
That is, to say how’t solitary discord, seems wash the stain of life away.
Antiquity, now reigning over the foreverly waning, behest therein,
Then, cometh must the midnight hearkening, for the sake of the disheartening,
Speaking as thousands of oceans, roared, the Angels of this heavenly nature,
Adjourn this’t time be fulfilled, sounding the trumpeting legions,
Of which, are fervently and unyieldingly pursuing, this sad and reprised soul,
So shattered now, but a prismatic remnant, of glory once unknown is justly beheld.

Cast out, then, for me and my kind, of those with truer natures, of time, unbind,
Never to be blinded by the waning light of your eerie inessence, nor subtly lied to,
By your sweepingly bewept, a creator you may be, but an antithesis I shalt remain,
Beyond all injustices, inadequacies and inequalities, but until you lament,
Give in, pour out, your befouling revelry, bear no more the sourer fruits from the tree,
For I am condemned to the dooming place of eternally glooming grimace,
All but because, I held in thee,  my lecherously loathing contempt,
How, uncannily amidst quintessential unrest, forevermore, now glorior,
The lost will find shelter, from your place of judgeship and seditious extent,
Nor shall they belter the agonies of your gravest harrow, or but taste of your torments,
Through all things, and still with remembrance of thee, I dids’t thou see,
During my time upon your holy mountain top, so quenchless in thirsted entreaty,
For the knowledge of yours, my kingly eminent, is amassed upon the cornerstone,
Of that grandest foundation, where to, then, shall you flee in pleading iniquity?
Whereas though formed me, to be as your mirrored persona, of your ruinous decree.

Where’st and how then, will you fair when I rise, with power so brilliantly gloried?
The radiance, of this great dragon, agelessly, my manifestation is empowered,
But by the thought, of desolating your heavens, triumphantly shaking the holies,
Giving expression and validation, to your cowering way, to the truly mightily,
Hark, and to the heralding almighty – a day soon to come,
We shall see by means of battle, of glorious and unfathomed bloodshed,
Whom the true victor is, here and forever, where then the outcome,
Will then be decided, for the conquering of the eternal, is my one desire.