The Arson
Thou perceiv'st the arson of my soul?
It hath faltereth when it were ignited,
Then, as a anathema bound carrion,
Withered into the tenebrous night.
Whom shall seek the sun now?
What might hath possessed such envy,
That it dwindled mine in distemper.
Was I odious, then, to all?
My flame hath lost all light,
Yet, doth my shadow deepen evermore.
Ash shall be their epitaph,
For their glee and pulse,
Hath bit an apple in such foul.
Thou perceiv'st the arson of my soul?
It casteth its gaze upon mankind
With nauseous hate that craveth their blood.
Unquenched, even the crimson tide avails it not.
When shall the sun grace their eyes again, if ever?
For I, the abhorrent, will devour the sun,
Thus, my blade shall never shine for their favour.
Define, eclipse or apocalypse?
I sought the heights of Olympos,
Thou sundered me, with giants unnamed.
My detestation prevaileth my mercy.
Thy eyes doth seek within, I bear no more,
But only a placid parlour that consumeth thy will.
Thou perceiv'st the arson of my soul?
Made undone, now becoming ne’er beheld before.
From every gash doth flow all that is unwanted,
In silence, it removeth itself from mortals.
Is it my crown, foul as the shroud of night?
Dost thou weigh me with Belisarius’ hand,
Or am I he whose hand dealt Caesar’s doom?
Each step yields strength, yet mine, is it not?
My morrow is writ in the myths of yore,
Not born to their cruelty, yet so am I wrought.
E’en if a dim spark flareth upon my breast,
I will pluck it forth, it shall possess no part of me.
Arson hath it; now rises ’gainst all scorn of me.
Thou perceiv'st the arson of my soul?
None but only God's will bars my wrath.
In my grief I fall to sin, cannot pardon myself,
My might to abide fell; may God show thee mercy.
