Organ jars of false immortals
Shattered on laboratory floors
Fields of flame shaped like wheat grains
Blood stained wings beneath the soldier's armor
A fire works display of ascending souls
Unique as the crowds mirrored below
In the subterranean golden world
Another lamp post to eternity is snuffed out
An angel measures out a baser self from its divinity
Fractured bars of a wooden choir screen
From the surging apocalyptic monster
A fiend within its aftermath
Collecting shards of stained glass windows
The dead god at the mouth of the river
Standing in his blue skin
He watches colors as they spread through the current
Where a dead nymph is disintegrating
Drinking water in massive streams
And falling through darkness
My shadows chain me to our broken world
And I spend ages conversing with holy and unholy ghosts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem