The strife is high, the fear is whole From all true wretchedness we chore Rain masking sun: a nature gall But in this arid land seldom
A breadth of trampled roses seeped lazy in thirst Amaranthine disquieting, no manifesting tell All sorrows veiled, kept internal The false assent does enfold a somber hole
With low elan, devoid of hope Labor and drudge endure
Desperate, vagrant spheres look for god's eye, find only sockets bare Plumbless and dark, empty and void, thickness unbroken Spiral that swallows all the days Passing in length like the burning of anthracitic veins
Arid wind channeling lost voices gone and pained The distrait descry a faint breath upon its wings "Arise from beneath the burning skies Leave vacant the walls where villains lie"
"Turn gloom to ire Arise unforeseen Like mirages burst"
Mirages, hark the voices lost With arid breath, cry your aversion