When the fire and stardust rained down the sky,
And the earth sang a caustic lullaby,
We looked up from the labyrinth below,
Like sediment longed to be absolved.
The arena hidden in the city’s heart,
Sustained a long lost ancient art.
The epiphany came a minute too late,
Another sinner waited,
For the resurrection on a hopeless day.
Greatest art thou, O Lord, mighty glory star,
Who rose from the terra incognita afar,
Thy grace cleansed the wicked world,
And left it more wicked than before.
The land of sickness, the land of fate,
The wounds cried and the children ached.
There I awoke, there I slept,
There I watched her day by day.
A mere reflection she was,
Of our lamenting, suffering age.
Greatest art thou, O ethereal vendetta,
Who rose from the heavens afar,
Thy grace effaced the evil in the world,
Along with the good, and the flourishing fields.
I watched her looked up to the sky,
The tears and wails were her lullaby.
The sky looked down with delight,
With poisonous clouds and hollow eyes.
The acidic rain on her tender skin,
It burned, but she rolled the dice,
And clenched her fists with rage to fly.
After the evening, before the dawn,
Before the love died and the lovers drown,
She prayed for the love yet to come.
Then she cursed the creator’s name,
And ran towards the sun.