Beggars' Haven - Rev 16:8

Like the brushstroke of red paint it stabs a hole in the canvas.

It’s the sweep that this the resting with fiery backs

soon to be put out in the brink of a new commence.

In an instant the course has curved a sudden turn.

Inside these pillars of my ancestors our fate wide open.

In this hollow ground where the spirits make their home…

«Give me all there is to know, all the secrets to the ancient’s

Grant the grace you’ve always shown, pave the ways of your sworn follower»

Gloomy stares thrown around the fleeting shadow.

Inhaling the herbs most sacred, I come across the holy bridge.

Hours pass, my pleads repeat, yet the only voices that echo are my own.

Cries of anguish rasp around my hold…

«Humble teacher I ask of your guidance, present me the rightful glory»

On the red sands of devotion and worship

the last of the cattle lie scattered and burned.

Detestful screams, infest, wiping out the inner circle.

«My sons and daughters have all been spent.

What more do you ask of me father?»

Fire’s heat, back thick smoke, inside the now trap like haven.

«I've given it all, all but one, for the slightest of wisdom’s taste…»

Piercing fangs, painted skin, gashdrowned arms lie wide open.

As the calm comes, I catch the sound of final beat

And my soul gives in, transcending deeper into the fade.