Forged by Hephaestus himself, tempered in Satan's heart.

It moves too fast for the normal eye to see,

But leaves traces of moon glinted footsteps in the fissure of heaven's breath.

In the harmonic tune of clashing instruments, an orchestrated chaos is present.

The chord from the bowstring beats time on wooden shields.

To this, their blade waltz continues.

Their cadence unmatched by surrounding performers,

The maestros continue their viperous style.

Just as a painter cannot take away a stroke of the brush,

A swordsman cannot take away a stroke of the blade.

Blown off course, led astray, fathered knowledge instills.

Pandemonium persists, expanding horizons.

Walking on a dream, wings settle, amongst tenacious zephyr.

Snapped memories remain,

A timeless echo.
Ripples of nostalgia in the sea life.

Colorful emotions awake, taking you higher, awoken with the earth.

Dawn-
Shadows of light approaching farewell,
Summer chords dancing to the rhythm, of your peaceful solitude.

Beyond the shadows, an infinite elation festers-
Taking you deeper,
Into Elysium.

All that remains,


Your dark passion,



Waiting for an angel.