The visions rip below the gleam
of twilight tinted eyes.
Their memoirs gleaned from realms of dream
where knowledge mortifies.
An inky murk of ages old
invades your reeling mind,
bereft the glow Aurora holds
and nature redefined.
Remembrance dons an aftershock
that shivers down the spine.
A backwards spiral ‘pon the clock
as echoes redesign.
A semblance wrought in ebon hue,
defies the flesh of man,
like angels made a rendezvous
with creatures of the damned.
Below their watchful countenance,
the slaves are moving stone
as crimson hands imbide a chance
to once again, attone.
Reflections taunt upon the glass,
just tears in slow refrain.
The ghosts of what has come to pass,
the deaths they entertain.....
By blood and rock, The Devil's Gate
began to span the breadth,
as vulgar voices resonate
from long forbidden depths
where stone reflections ripple deep
to meet their hallowed end,
a bridge for broken souls to keep,
and one the Damned defend.
The river claimed a crimson shade
as innocence departs
the sphere of death our hands displayed
by draining summer's heart
and just beyond the morbid void,
they scream in soft rapport
from halls of ash where hopes destroyed
and blood is but, decore.....
His footsteps fall in rhythmed beat,
no sign of failure's weight.
This thoughtless quest, now quite complete,
he's made a date with fate.
Beyond the portal's placid sphere
arose a somber sign,
a jagged throne of yesteryear
begins to realign.....
Where once their shackles quelled the rage,
the flames now lick his skin.
A hunger burns he must assuage,
it pulsates deep within.
And so the faithful met his fate
upon embittered stones.
A single stride across the gate,
His Legacy Of Bones..........