5 September 2012
Fingers trace the smoke grey glass, Thick fog pours through the ashen grass, The sky is jet, a vast expanse, The black horizon takes its stance.
The silver pane glows dusk with mist, The moon collapses, like a fist, The midnight sea and moonlight sky, Caressing lust, they melt and cry.
A chilling frost sweeps, out, again, A sheet of tears falls with the rain, A pool of years absorbs the time, A silken thread, as pure as wine.
The clouds, struck cold, with ice and night, A charge of lust ignites the sight, Abyss is now and now is drawn, Towards the force of this black dawn.
Black Dawn • Opuss № I