Sometimes it hurts
When the stars don't shine
For whenever the sky falls
A god dies.

Thus it is that sadness comes
At the moment of our waking
And oblivion sets on those at birth
Who cease to see the angels.

The Princes of Heaven have fallen to earth,
Where cracks and fissures gape
And mortals rise above the din
To the plane where death awaits.

Now the Prophet raises his stave

To a rent beyond eternity,
While prophesying of the grand design,
That to be free the gods have enslaved us

With heaven now empty,
Insanity grasps us all;
While the old crawl back into the womb,
And our sucklings rise to lead us.

But, alas, the Goths have awoken,
From the wayward screams of agony,
And oblivion has been unleashed
Upon our slumbering consciousness.

Still the Prophet rambles on,
"From mutability there is no escape."
While sorrow claims the throne of victory;
And all are left alone & barren.

Thus, in the end
The master of us all
Is he who dreamt us into

Copyright 1998, Steven Lynn Reeder