Terrestrial Hospice - Memoir

Beneath a starless night-sky
we prowl the shadows of an oaken grove,
thwarting your sacred vision for this world
Your feeble sphere is destined to fall
as seeds of awe are sown in your hearts

Outbursts of rage cut through the silence,
shards of glass tear faces to shreds;
a joyous letting of humanity's blood!
Here's no peace until the cleansing is complete
and the sun of reprisal has burnt off the fog

As the new day dawns,
wind-carried clouds of smouldering ashes
turn the bleating of lambs into wheezing coughs
This otherworldly symphony
heralds our triumph
and stokes the blissful fires in my heart