Fear not he who bleeds the ink bone dry
From which to carve out our dear lord’s cry
Nor she who bears forth corpses of stone
Amassed in silence to reclaim his throne
Tell naught of his dreams that sing of sorrow
Its symphony beckoning us to follow
Nor tell tales echoed amidst black pitch
Coaxing the darkness to writhe and twitch
Keep hidden secrets of brimstone and ash
Daemons awaiting to gnaw and gnash
Keep hidden the key to the world’s iron braces
Those whom they fear must remain faceless
Sleep, my lamb, and dream ever sweetly
Fate’s threads stitch and bind completely
Dream of celestial tapestries divine
As they elegantly intertwine