Internecine Iatrogenesis

And yet, of worse deeds,

worse suffering must ensue:

The second and final rout

culminates with a Silence

that bears the acrid burden of all things lost

since thou tamest Chaos,

and a much heavier burden still,

for all things that perished unborn,

for none of the New Souls was found worthy

to partake and witness.

Even the soil turned frigid in a world

made torrid by scorching heat.

Thou who are the End of All, behold!

To whom belong the faces,

eyes and knees of the elderly,

the women and the children,

all that walks and crawls?

All belong to you! Nothing more remains.

-But heaven! One arrow, anointed in the balm

of Internecine Iatrogenesis, shall suffice!

Towards the Dawn, towards the south,

towards the melancholy west

and towards the North I cry:

onward where most with ravin I may meet!

The firmament sheds scarlet tears,

dazzled by this horrendous pyre of a world,

A brazen Holocaust, brighter than a hundred suns

that slowly consumes God and Man,

trembling beside one another,

both bemoaning what could have been,

what should have been,

Yet their accusing voices sing the sound of discord

on which I feast with my baneful maw

in eternal hunger.