The eerie God Fulgent dust the prelude of the drowing sun Bloodstained sculptures across amorphous reliefs The angelic blaze; ancient their silent choirs Torn apart the pure aorta of apathy Dissolution of gentle seas, the lost brilliance Hateshaped the billow of thorns How should I enthrone my pain I have no more tears that embrace my pure perfume Seduced by my mornful gale The blood will never return I have no more weeps that Caress the stoned heart At one with a mornful tear Artesian well the aphorism in it is deep Aura of aghast bane the disburden of azure Diurnal sleep the eerie bloodstained God (Ref.)
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