The Lost Garden

Tragedy, Blood-wpt patters of Eden within my dreams. Mors iauna vitae!
Requiem-aeternam dona eis, Domine. Whispering chois within the dark.

I lay as dead, my graven dreams as memories, of the enchanted garden
As the dark is creeping through my coffin sleep, with a sour perfume
the putrid stench of withering flesh-wheeping

Once bewildering bright, in Elysian bloom, the garden stood vast, as an Arcadian dream
but chaos arose with malicious intent, to smother the orchads with grim eerie veils
Petrified angels, dead featherless black, fell as overriped fruits from their haven
to drown as sinners, in sulphur steam drenched
in the damp bloodless vein of Phlegethon-Bath!
Sculptured to be...

Marble angels of melancholy, statues of stone by my grave, as sentinels sobbing
with wings draped in frost, for heavenly life they crave.

The midwinter storms to scatter the leaves, thin and brittle as ice
as stars upon my grave, diaphanous pale, a bouquet of frostbitten flowers
Transparent, melting as the anthems of death, the poems I've written are fading
Like my funeral wreath, the weave of dreams, forgotten and frozen to ice

Pelaline jewelry, as stars in the snow, to embelish the wintery embrace
embedded in darkness, tenebrous haze. I sleep beneath their glimmering gaze

Over my grave as a spring serenade, flowers fortorn within darkness
The garden of galaxies frozen to frost. The orchards of Eden by roses and thorns
overgrown, as the memories-of a landscape forgotten to sprout.
Withering beaty to vanish in patterns of withering dust-in oblivion lost

Warm I lay in the sheets of the earth, in the dust of the withering garden.
Behind the shieod of snowfall I hide-delifed-as God of the grievous Eden

Leviathan coils from the shadows of sleep to fetter my soul to the deep
Ophidian beast from the darkness to rise, my dreams to nourish and reap
Quadricornutus sperpens, luminous black, breating an apical hiss,
yearning to bless me with venomous hiss, with a flickering, toungue upon my lips

Above the surface, lifeless and plain, the midwinter winds to ravage
to scatter the remnants of memories lost, the garden withered to dust
I sleep with the dark, silence I breathe, still waiting for life to return
A time will come, when my death I defy, from the ashes, as a pheonix to rise