May I wear you this night
As we marvel at our death
I would wane within your art
As you would become me

Like ashes circling the pyre
With virtues of the seraphim
While prancing indifferently
Amid the devil's fingers

The sun, the moon
Our garments of glee and distress
In their wake we are born dying
Voicing insignificance

Awake with me into glacial skies
As the earth below lies august
Should time be meek we may drink
Of oceans of ageless silence

The north is unfurling
It's presence welded on us
Latent - a monument
Amid ethereal bosoms

We kneel in tragedy on tundra
This barren skin
Ailing slaves to the word
Within the rigid commandment of woe