Axesed stars constellated elevated thronging
Moving constantly, but only in their way
Upon set course no new marches charting
Darting along plotted lines
Moving resplendently, faux-independently
Inside a box’s confines
From afar shone amazing but days
Nay, aeons, since it died or truly shined
Closening shies to ashes, poor and flaking incapable
Cage inescapable, ineluctable, indelible
Bars unbendable from hell’s forge lending
A grille to a vision of hell
Rilled and sterile moon shorn of adornment, lapless shores
All indulgences ever paid were as nothing in swaying the Ancient.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment