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Revelation
From tendril pits, the locust cloud
Shall fill my lungs’ undying days—
Create the sound of trumpet-shroud
To drown the sundown, ashen-thick.
Those broken pillars’ tourniquets
Deny my candles of their wick.
How do I set aflame my greys
Of doubt...
Shall fill my lungs’ undying days—
Create the sound of trumpet-shroud
To drown the sundown, ashen-thick.
Those broken pillars’ tourniquets
Deny my candles of their wick.
How do I set aflame my greys
Of doubt...
