These words, I would think that they came from the angels,

the messengers holy of mightiest God

and then I would pray to the Son and the Maiden

However my language it seems they forgot.

And then I would think that the Devil himself

was moving my hand to create all the verses

Possessed by the anger, I blindly beheld

the power of letters, the blasphemous curses.

But now that I think of the feeling I own

I know it is never the Heaven that speaks,

nor it is Hell, but the heart of the stone,

the heart of the dead, in the temple it beats.

The nothing has slaved me, and nothing I slaved,

A soul that is longing could never be saved.

Lord Rainwood

03.01.2015