In the cold womb of a shadowy icon
Come to real life by leaving your faith
Let it slip through your fingers
Like dismal cavernous water
The blueish haze of your whirlwind dirge
Echoes and bangs against walls of unawareness
She rises from a place
Where the light is devoured
And I’ll be there watching
She chants the tales
Of doomed fate as it is, mother of darkness
Patiently embroidering
A silver curtain for the final call. |