The Masks

Four masks interlocked in dreadful stare

Observation changing all before

Entangled weave of gazes entwined

To make all, that once was not,

Now there


Four masks caged in pained haunt

To build, To burn, To act, To plan

A raging storm with no end or halt

The vortex spiral of dreamland


Four masks making haste to plan all fate

Fighting for a secure place in the abyss

Longing to fill a thirst they cannot sate

Creating chaos in darkened mist

Saturday, January 23, 2010

The IND Poetry

Phatom Gaia
Xerxes Box
Four dark masks
Chained to rock
Crow flies by
Shard comes from sky
Graven full of prophet doom
Runes advance
tribes no longer bow to moon
Siren embedded far in time distant
Phantom Gaia
Xerxes Box

The IND

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