Riding towards the horizon
Upon the monumental rocks, awaiting
the end of a dishonourable life,
I perceive my morality
fading to
a weakly seeming substance,
climbing towards my yer unsealed
faith, I arrive (faith arrives)
Staring into the
abyss of Midgard,
above, the Angels of Asgard
and the armour of Loges child.
Im losing myself in an odyssey through
the
bottomless
depth of my spiteful soul.
At the end, the will to die.
My nag becomes restive,
I open up my eyes
and spread
out my arms:
"God of gods, take my inglorious soul!
here is nothing left, for me..."
God of gods, ...
My hands are
longing for the lance
and aim at my vulnerable essence.
God of gods, ...
As I lift to strike...
A sudden lightning
bannes my glace.