A
dark Lord roars and hauls the sun
to
his dead isle where moans rip love.
Tides
of gore surge as six fiends rise
tails
hurl tar rocks that spew green gas
song
rasps in throes; all coral rays fade.
A
horn blasts “Woe! O haste great lamb!”
His
sweet lance wings; three ruby nails blaze
His
holy tree blooms; the blind sun winks.
Beautiful:) great imagery x
ReplyDelete