Reason. This demigod, unto which you cluster. Sacrilege. You sacrifive the purity of the air beneath your wings.
A slow and painful ritual to burn the youth you lost.
Demigod. Blasphemers walk among your flock.
Despite your blindfold, proudly you carry the stone on your back.
Disillusioned. You plant your feet safely to the ground.
Demigod. Blasphemers walk among your flock.
As the stone you have become.
Not once did you cry for the lost ones of your world.
Your care is limited to this demigod, onto which you cluster.
Reason. Decrystallize me. Demigod. I do blaspheme.
The fallen you condemn. Your heart even free of hate.
Yet, scared to death by their disbelief. To ordinary common sense.
And with autumn closing in. Forcing life away. No mercy wil impale your sin. Dead are your tears.
Icaros, I dare you. For I possess the wings of faith. Though, heavy on my shoulders. No measurement can prove their weight. Still, a burden are they not to me. I am the challenger of gravity. The fear is not the fate I seek. My destiny will build upon, the mighty turbulence beyond. If I fall I will rise again
Some of envy, some of fear. Asmonish by the graves of those who fell. Praise the fool that pure of heart. Leaps off your finger, into grace.
Icaros, your voice once melted, Into the choir of the fallen ones. I have heard, I have seen, the purity of their song.
Icaros. Your fate embrace. A manifold of angels. I summon thee from shattered graves, and call upon the wind. Recieve my bow of reverence. Then spread your wings, and fly into oblivion.
The land was created, in the name of the chosen, and the waves thrown, for men to see the one who made men to be. Prevailed from the source of Icon E.
The waves of fury, prevailed from the source of Icon E. Were mine to be ordered to destroy and bury. No remorse!
The destiny of the wave, was not to be found. Nor was I travelling the deadly sea alone. The sun never rose and my rose was not to be.
For what purpose I gave my return is stil standing alone. And as the raven dropped a feather on me. I was again to be the chosen one...
Four eyes as two in one the forward circular view that never ends. An orbital voyage throughout the endless sphere of all. Where time is lost and everything transcends.
A graceful presence at stolen time.
As ghosts to the world, ghosts to the world.
For ice, outside, are we apart as cold and eerie mist to the hand. Ever floating on its course towards the heights of shadowland. Thus appear the truly sworn.
To be seen, To be feared. Yet, not to be reached.
Four eyes as two in one. Thus appear the truly sworn. As ghosts to the world. Thus appear the truly sworn. For ice outside, are we apart.Thus appear the truly sworn. Cold and eerie mist. Burning. Thus appear the truly sworn.
A graceful presence at stolen time.
Thus appear the truly sworn.
Hark. For I speak of purity.
I am unconquerable. In my worship. I am invincible on my crusade. However hard the strikes may be. However deep the wounds. This blood immortal, bleeds for thee.
In every breath I hear the silent whisper of your name.
In every harmony, In every thought. You make my water into wine. Remember, I am ever thine.
Blessed was I with the consecration. To indomitable dedication.
Two bound as one. In a trinity. Where I comprise infinite forms of unity.
In unity reborn to a state. Where all past burdens no longer shall be worn.
I pledge to perfection. No compromise can touch my woe. Nor questions reach my faith, in immortality.
In the name of Nonus Aequilibrium. I am thine. IX times IX...
All raised to be men. Given image and path. Supreme, idolised warriors. Bright steel, burning rage. Never too late to try. Stand tall, never plead. Live and let die.
I see the spirit of those ancestors. And reconsider the faith. A primitive sword can not win my war. Cold fury, flaring eyes. Calculated verbal gun. My pride, justified. Spiritual steel shines bright beyond the sun.
The pride of the warrior is far from dead. The colours of death are still black and red. Though modernised. Blood wil be shed.
Ever behind me. Rise a shadow taller than I. Yet, with a certain resemblance.
How many times do I have to contemplate my own reflection. And say: I have been blind?
I have been blind. Yet, I saw the search and dreams of my rejection. Walking behind me.
Every time, I am bound to have been granted the gift of better sight.
But my anxiety, built one more brick. Fearing again to choose the wrong step.
Vaguely I remember the blurred eyes of someone small. These strangers often come as blind. A troubled mind I left behind.
Yet, was it I of my shadow walking in the past?