I have bestowed pains in lucid and timeless graveyard harbours by my own sea.
One stone was cast in its glass
I sighed a storm that drowned them.
Bare a foot upon my shore
In the calm of the water.
Shine of unholy options, mirrored by wintermoon.
Choose and I may
Bare a hand upon my shore illumination.
Life is not the answer.
The hands are rotten.
I am still the disintegrator.
Lucid ultimate pain, dissolver.
In the years of brightness
until my hateful
the garden grew...
Withered thoughts and vivid words.
I have cast the firemist
for those in
shant bare the illness.
We are of His flame.
... The Revelation.