Authors of Catastrophe


Ride drafts
High pauses
Icy or savage
The heart pulses

Onwards questing
Small motions

Angels float
Into flight

Men fall

I will hold you
Like a prayer
Inside my mouth
Words ready
To set in motion
Ideas man-made
Melt in hot sun
Wax dripping

the last drums beat
The armies clash
Onto the bodies
Trying not to breathe
While devils cry
Unable to believe

On flaming candals
Below we run
Yet this flight from
Authors of catastrophe
It is without fear
It eats the darkness
Sound the chase
For Joy will flood
Everything broken
Will wash into beauty
It is victorious
Banking over storms
Shot through
Light meets light
Hunters horns will cease


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