I have come; the dominant one
Virulent, I am the influence unnoticed
Antiquity is my strength; I shall cast upon the world my solitary message.
I will diminish those centuries and persecute those with quiet desperation...

They shall call me the "Great Morality"; a stain upon time.
Lugubrious, unforgiving; a terribleness that I bare for all age.
The crossing shall cease by only the shadows of my completed undertaking.
They will die both day and by night with the air still, the trenches deep.

I will unlock the mysteries of this universe, not within the heated stars, but below
the consecrated churchyards, cold in misery and disdain.
For it is not the singing of angels that beckon, but the feral groans of death...

Withering inside
Within these final moments
Torn from my feeble gaze
Are the visions of what were to be
A merciless chill within these incessant winds
Embraces this already blackened spirit
Cursed, and lost in it's own aridity
Loathing, and shattered by disbelief
Nightfall shall be perpetual, poignant as it declares
In the distance, a bell - harbinger of demise
Only it's disillusioned chime
Can awake me from this nightmare

Lessened in degree, upheavals will be anointed.
Final persecution at the very hour,
The cowardice invited to be claimed by death.
Bent and laid waste to the roots of ancient trees...

Their faces twisted, imprisoned and exiled by the principalities of fear.
While they endure the undone, the crimson seas, the heretics of grim eloquence.

The famine which is felt becomes universal.
For one to be spared, trustfulness will betray the world.
In the quiet of the hollow mountain,
Uncontrolled anger will tear apart the consequence of dread.

Separated from judgement, your odyssey of failure will return...

Burned into the tattered tapestry of the foreboding sky,
are faded traces of forgotten sunlight;
as the fragments of ashes rain,
scattered over the vast distance
that separates contentment from isolation.
Futility is absolute, and alone and misguided are those
who would tread this mire; so cold and deep.

Lost are all who traverse these ominously twisting paths,
for hope is only a mockery of its own illusion.

Entangled in fury, it is prolonged beyond all explanation.
Terrified by the veiled strife that torments the thoughtless mind,
All consequence flows through these veins; I will not repent, but destroy.
Derision of the innocent, sparing of the soul.
It only matters when tragedy grips the self, my morning will never come.
The dim reality is slowing killing me.
The subtle art of transcendence shattered in cold blood, never forget the pain inside.
Arise to the still air, the piercing cold; the diminishing flame that calms the black stream.
Why has life forsaken me?
Nothing lasts forever, within the ruptured encasement this reality, time and sentiment shall not sever.
Dreading the emotive sense this cannot be my dreamscape, but the call of solitary and eternal sleep.
Blessed by the tears I shed, worn by the weather I am taken from my place of shelter.
Within the calm of the wind, taken by the day, this is my final breath
It has always been the illusion of life, for this is my sole moment, it is the moment of my death...

A soundless realm, an unforgiving place where time seems endless.
Its creation concealed; its myth an unparalleled wonder.
Light cannot escape the sole purpose of ultimate obliteration.
Bending, swirling; a senseless storm which has no rival.
Shown as the bereavement of gods, the foundation of matter shall crack.
Worlds shall never go unscathed within its fabric of unrelenting punishment.

Mankind's burden to bear within the age to bring hell upon heaven

Anthology of the coiled reality, damned to inherit the blessed.
It is not the sick verse of immortality, but the conflict of belief.