O to rise from pits of thraldom
Into the blaze of royal delight
From waning faith to deity’s flame
I sit on thrones and melt as ice
For destroyed I must be
Nevermind the path I choose
And lay I must, amongst rotten souls
The illusion of freedom didn’t last long
I fell as light-bringers; idealism over flaws
And sat weeping in a prison of religions
Hunched over by the weight of God.
People called my thoughts riddles
And the pain I suffered poet’s dream.
I still promise the same holy loyalty
To the being who no longer listens to me
But a new moon will rise
And the darkness will be called mine
I shall never shun the bond of love
Yet accept Pain as a mutual friend of Time.