Night swells to distant spheres
Silent throat of unholy times
The withering wind deep down here
Flesh of the gods bleeding as light

Here in the environs of heaven
The am sun am outshined one
The idea of beauty is ebony
The last am on my balcony

Forever people suffer in silence
Always and forever drifting to dark waters
The sand of time, still ominous
As scultured cherubs of the ether
The idea of beauty is ebony
The last am on my balcony

"The am sun, my ebony sun"

Erratic firmament and the perishing clouds

To be continued...