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Profetus
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When Autumn Cries a Fiery Canticle
'Beholding in Sorrow
the Sleeper meets kingly torment
Suffocating into the woe of stars
He remembers the years pass
And what is left of dying flame of retribution'
It's then, when the last autumn cries a fiery canticle
And hums through the trees in the wake of death
As a last journey of mesmerized night-wind
Yearning to leave this earth
'Dethroned and forgotten,
He sees no suffering rest
In his temple, now relinquishing from the soil
Deep in his wounds of starlight
The nights are still silver'
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Death, so heavy on his shoulders
the dreams too old inside
Now severed out from his chest
into a sky-shaped stone for a blackened soul
Once more gazing over shoreless white purity
A perfect vision lamented by his hands
His bleeding eyes thrown to the godless glare
Where creation is still silence
Abandoned lies his tower of solemn grace
Like the thousand years engraved to its walls
Where his cries circle, never to reach the chambers of gold
Hopelessly, as all seasons die
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