Scattered by this scourge
The impalement of the piercing sun
Thought to be the place to all for
Their beloved ones
The gates opened, but not for entry
It was for their absolute obliteration
It was the face of their god
It tired of the plague, that was man
Who spat on the face of logic and reason
Falling to their knees
Glance upon the falling sky
Heavens grace upon them now burns the heart
And there it lies
Horrified at the mutilated earth
Once called people return to the molten dirt
Comprised of a used and feeble source
Now wasted bones and earth
It then revealed innate archetypes
The products of concepts and malfunctions
But the quintessence fails to see this
To be trapped in faulty flesh
And to be deceived in the iconic sphere