Styx And The Stones May Break Poem by Dan Reynolds

The Day of Days approaches soon,
the advent of the Blackened moon,
accompanied by maudlin tune.
We wait for the result.
The Demon shedding his cocoon
is welcomed by his cult.

They who have hoped, two thousand years
in frenzied feasts, allay their fears.
They drink and bathe in angels' tears
as man stands by in awe.
Their souls he takes as souvenirs
and smiles from Jackal's Jaw.

His name is that which can't be said,
beside the dried up river bed
which once took Charon to the dead,
those who can now return.
The rest of us will find instead
it's Earth, not Hell where we will burn...