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Praised Be The Downfall

Bethlehem

Through treacherous vastness
of an untouched distant sun
slowly striding on foot
the last sacrament, readily
Opens the door,
To Obliveon
in its' glorious omniscience
revealing my empty mortality

It isn't the ashes
Which rains upon my head
But rather
The confused damnation
That reconsiders
My renounced restless filigree

High on the dawning firmament
Climbs my patience
Denying my early repentance

For I am the guardian
of exalted beauty
of death
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