The crown tilts,
Before this foe.
Have we not bled for your succor?
Have we not swarmed to your side?
Have we not groveled and washed your feet?
Are we not bound to your creed?
I will not blithely wilt
In the light of your glory.
I will not blindly walk
And glimpse the void.
Assembled ranks, bastion flock,
Pirouette of the paragon.
Flawless blades guilt with blood;
His glory be in ragged meat.
Bodies like hale, an astral squall,
Revolve and revolve in blind idolatry.
Chorus fractured and forlorn
Heaven heaves a sigh of epochs.
The myriad strains under prides weight.
Regal volley thrown, trebuchets of carven bone.
Wings fragment in fervid oil, driven back and recoil.
Torn fingers clutch the edge,
The mass cries out,
Foundation reviles in disgust
Hands claw and grip,
Dust blinds in floods,
Engulfs and chokes,
They fall away, we flail,
Blotted eyes tight,
Lungs erased. duress engulfs.
The void it calls,
It calls below and below again,
Trauma wrought and beaten,
Scorched limbs drag torpid husks.
This chasm maw lies open,
Exit beyond their grasp.
The cold it binds and castrates,
Bound like brittle branches
To this freezing waste.
Is this the prize you spake my lord?
To punish infinite? how can our god
Commit such puerile acts?
This hollow place will serve us well,
For we no longer have your love.