May the cardinals perch upon their nest,
Buying times of peace from constant sorrow.
May the all time Highest help those to rest,
Guiding souls for a future's tomorrow.
Given upon us a Sanctuary,
As it is a Heaven to this found Earth.
Loved only for his angels to carry,
For all righteous souls at their own rebirth.
Already the times to ascend by hope,
The conscious to live for what is all known.
Descending past times for the knights to lope,
To guard the safe haven of its dear throne.
Steadfast the love for those to be airy,
For our home in which called Sanctuary.
Seven Seals of October - Seal IV - Sealed Sanctuary.
Travelled well the triangle of all chains,
The scattering shark infested waters.
Lost from their tribes for all of future's gains,
Waiting to settle in the lands of slaughter.
For all of who are chosen paths destined,
From blood and roots to fester from their own?
This lonesome past which is ours invested,
A future among another disowned.
With peace comes a chance of our time alone,
A light to shine of the barrens of so.
The new hopes of the old naive and grown,
Sprouting fibers as well to fester fro.
Permissible are us as well the chains,
Comes compassion to conquer as it reigns.
Seven Seals of October - Seal VI - Chains broken or forged...the choices ours.
To thee has been the most somber season,
Whereas I have lost the most closest friend.
To laugh at our own memorable heights,
Not wanting to know the world at its end.
So tormenting a charm raiser can be,
One to sacrifice their own dear soul on.
Letting the burden on for the living,
Yet to feel their spirit no longer gone.
What's left of the season I see my tears,
Blowing away to what is right of me.
No longer ignoring my true sorrow,
Confronting the denial that I see.
For all this time they have never left me...
The ghostly winds to befall, breeze & be.
Seven Seals of October - Seal V - After all this time...
This tale is the story of a farmer:
Harvested the truth of blood, sweat and toil.
With him his wife a loving gardener,
She asks, 'what left of the harvest to boil?'
The saddened farmer looks down at the dirt,
With little of no words to tell - his horse.
Eager to pull out a shotgun all hurt,
He aims at his lame prize with all his force.
Little does he know a dark deepened truth,
His horse to run pastures of further roots.
Forsooth, fired the missed shot all so forsooth,
Ran the farmer on fresh land unlaced boots.
What does one know of his little light horse,
His sole dark prize to truly run its course?
Seven Seals of October - Seal IV - The clever beast with a benign neigh...
The art of transgressions and its fixed love,
Let us talk about the story of man.
Years the seasons come as well as others,
In search of powers of a *** he can.
What lost of love within all eternal,
To journey on only with his eyes seen.
Contemplating such of paradises,
What left of our world and all so between.
The empowering life can mesmerize,
Forcing one to live and tell as beyond.
How long must we go in order to know,
Our transgressions in which were dearly spawned?
The art of life not only fixed and told -
Us created and summoned to be bold.
Seven Seals of October - Seal III - Our story...
I remember grabbing the white candle,
The smell of wax lingering in the air.
A longing for a needle to ***** through,
Blood to parchment of my skin all to care.
Remembering a time this done before,
Starting to see a pattern of my life.
Wanting all of success to be in store,
Myself running down the long strangled knife.
Backward words and lettering to be torn,
Aching a long lost soul withered away.
This young son never a demon to warn,
Slipping close of the night to southern day.
Out and away from the further realms curled,
A solemn pact of mine to keep in world.
Seven Seals of October - Seal II - The Second Solid Pact of Solemness...
The winds haunt and howl the late somber nights,
As all the lost lovers lost in clear sights.
Laid out suits in our dear remembrance on,
Made only to work in late season's dawn.
Widows gone with the lost widowing man,
With eyes pale with tears he cries as he can.
Remembered gowns laced clear and drowned in white,
The rancid scratching and tapping of night.
For all whom to hear the lost loving soul,
Wailing to be pure - anointed - annul.  
For whom can we promise of true dear love,
Longing the expected gift of a dove?
For winds to haunt and howl in somber nights,
Walk the ghosts and lovers in clear long sights.
The Seven Seals of October - As felt a cold somber night laying out my suit...
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