"These be the True Tidings"

Hearken unto me...

Caught-up in my dream;
Lost in my mentality

The hear-and-now, tis just
mere fantasy

All that's in the rooms of
my imagery, beckon I forth
into being

I'm trying; I'm skyring: into
the mirrors I'm gazing and
now that which is to be is
manifesting

The birth of becoming now
no longer in a slow state of
stale-mate

Don't bless the child, but
curse that which he is to
upon us bring, not for our
good but for the worse

Don't let the Heralded Angels
sing; their Glad Tidings from
letting fall upon your ears
refrain; lest you be lulled into
cessation yet brief of life's
eternal grief

Hearken unto me...

Caught-up in my dream;
Lost in my mentality

The hear-and-now, tis just
mere fantasy

All that's in the rooms of
my imagery, beckon I forth
into being

It can't be withheld nor put
off forever; put forth now your
hand to hold it back; make it
for a bit ebb

But be it deferred yet with wrath's
tongue full of thirst and insatiable
will it unto thee return

Don't bless the child, but
curse that which he is to
upon us bring, not for our
good but for the worse

Don't let the Heralded Angels
sing; their Glad Tidings from
letting fall upon your ears
refrain; lest lulled you be into
cessation yet brief of life's
eternal grief

It can't be withheld nor put
off forever; put forth now your
hand to hold it back; make it
for a bit ebb

But be it deferred yet with wrath's
tongue full of thirst and insatiable
will it unto thee return