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From cloud-brushed peaks they fall,

Topple like playing cards,

A fragile house to the heavens,

Collapsing inwards on their own design,

Theses gods you made,

Fabricated by necessity,

Fashioned from need,

Devouring their Manner,

Their idol-sent offerings,

The sacrificial slaughter of soul,

And sanity lost to the blindness of fear,

Immortality’s temptress her hidden face high,

Laughs as from deity to deity you turn,

Unable to see as skyward the search,

Insatiable unstoppable goes on.

 

 

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