writing Of Salt and Fire

[Pan the Fabulous Ferret 2,642]

Hurry now, I have no time.

It must be done, these words of past decline.

Write them now, falter not, or be left behind.

 

Such the heavens were, opened by light and unto dark dwellings.

Fire of salt and tears of steel that rained forth from opened heavens.

Fear overtakes as the thoughts of the dear and grand are without life.

life blessed this day by the savior that this day doomed them all.

Life content in itself not, these demons rose, heavens closed.

Such was the turmaoil of past decline.

 

Into the depths, the crevice near,

such the billows now belonged.

Enter the will of holds and knots.

Such to be in heavens eyes of past decline.

The end of fire that rained upon the souls most deserving of salvation.

 

I hear the heavens laughing.

 

I hear the skorn of angel wings, beating ever so closely to m own heart, listen...

Listen to the metronome that is prelude to the salted earth.

 

On the day when heaven opens, and the demons rise to combat.

 

On the day of reckoning, and simple subsiding.

On this day, I stand, hand in hand with the ones I fear.

We pray an ode to what binds us together.

In the wake of the rise of spite and misunderstanding we wait.

Together, hand in hand, as we wait for our deserved fate.

We are the medium of terror unheard, on the day when the moon fails to see the sun.

When devil's wake meets the shadow of all integrity, yes, the shadow which eluded me.

 

This is the day of angelic death upon wounded land.

Screams in the cracks of thunder that echo farther than the beating wings that will continue to plague this world. Such was and is, perhaps forever will be what lies in wake by shadow's need. Shall I indulge such learning of the shadowy existence that I dare to describe. Here on this day of Judgment, when the gates of an oblivion that by far out power the wills that open them. The day of opened heavens.

 

Let the fire take its time.

Let the sin do whats thought.

Let the death be taken in.

All on such to be in days of Salted meadows, and burning seas of golden desires.

In the way of angels and demons alike, to be in the end, all the same.

All in the end, all in the beginning.

 

 

To the shadow, I no longer wish to envy and destroy.

Blessed be this salt that burns me after death.

 

 

 

-David Favret