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Who’s to say the Atheist dies in vain? Who’s to claim the Christian speaks lies,

For ‘til the final grain of Time doth drain,

A man postmortem’s simply a surprise!


Woe, O woe, sweet child, my love,

Languished in her winged roves above;

Dismayed in and out of doleful dreams

For frayed w/ doubt’s her soulful seams…

The ethereal temple time’s dwindled cold

When abreast her no other hand’s t’hold;

For ever enslaved her lover’s lied in shroud,

Alas, the horn amidst the halo he allowed.

But beseech not the heavens t’open up

And extend a hand hither to save

Me, the fool, who drankith Death’s cup,

Exiled t’Lucifer’s land ‘neath the grave.

O and if we swapped chasms by chance,

And I were freed, alfresco to prance,

I’d forfeit a thousand ambrosial flights

Of thy divine tarry for one more casual

Night t’call you mine, however temporary…

For what purpose is paradise w/out our romance?

Enough! ‘tis all too late, albeit too soon…

You’re the sun. I’m the moon…

Cease all thy tears raining of mercy much –

Our only staunched affection left to feel, -

For e’ery hearted drop evanesces t’my touch

Since ‘twas a fiery Fate I didst seal…

Acquaint me no more! Thy salvation’s earned!

Taint not thy magnificent diamonds crowned!

I’m but a fool Hell’s fire hath burned…

I am broken… eternally bound…


I imagine mighty cruel’re the fates

Of those who suffer in nostalgic states,

Aware their lovers’re ne’er t’return,

For now in Hell’s fire their lovers just burn…

and burn… and BURN.

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