Milleniums turn to sand
Behesting the souls of the ashes
begrim'd
Vague dreams of god dwell within them all
Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times
His poetry landscapes are deserts of naught
Seeking his name 'neath the names of untrue
His trident did rise again
To pierce dimensions, nebulars with
lethal breath
of chasmic starless cold
The being who is the oldest of times
Lurking in the beings who multiply and unify,
erecting the glorious reign
His name spoken words
Finding their way thro' the burning ordelesness
Supressed by collision of wills by even sealed...
Souls of reddening skies
Upon this necklace they thread as stones
Submerge in the gloam of dimmed luminaries
In galaxies savouring horror
Cosmos in crystals of possession reflected
Invicible torrents, fierce sounds of Chaos
Infinity born of perfection enthroned
The forefather who let them drink of his essence
Had sent them to wastelands, their lives - hatred's
own!
Vague dreams of god dwell within them all
Head for the depths, for the widths, for the times
His mask cracks
Revealing the altars of ire unleashed
Devouring desires born of the past
Into the glory of unity does he arise!
Sans mercy I contemplate
Vanity swirling
and raging in me
My dust comprises his entirety
For I am the Source, I am the Key, I am the Primal
Chaos
My poetry's landscapes are wastelands of Un
The name of all gods are compelled by my own
Eternally do I change
To spawn dimensions, nebulars by cursed song of
chasmic starless cold
The being I am older than old
Blasphemy sans shapes or forms
Pulsation of unknown tytanic Chaos
