I see your shade of the past,
Without conscience it defiles this
Holy harbour I have wrought
What must I do,
To put your spiteful shade to rest?
Open my veins to your serpents tongue?
Do I cast a heavy hand?
Rule with deaths scythe?
Reaping the harvest of souls in your wake?
Your shade fled the wrath of justice,
Through the Stygian fields I followed,
To where beggars mourn the seraphs dance
The blood from the wound you have caused,
Has stained the Empyrean fields,
Giving birth to a twilight Cathedral
Oh Bride of the Netherworld,
Reveal your face to me,
For I sail on the seas of darkness to deliverance
Through Serpents and Fiends,
This Chimera of flesh you have crafted,
Stands in the veil with venomous intent
The blue silk of your hallowed blood,
Casts waves like the ocean through the sky,
An ancient stairway to the glittering stars
By Esteban Korsgaard