And the night clove down, and then the
Thunder. The fading of the charger, its
Fathomless eye transfixed before the
Onslaught, fiendish dance of harrowing
Lights, a feast for groaning demons;
Where dreams thus morph unto day,
And day thrice back to night again. An
Unraveling star bathed in crimson waters,
Where the blood rain flowed, unwept on
Gelid ground. And beyond the knell prim-
Ordial, the inexorable chasm: An emac-
Iated child, alone on the plains of Rafah;
The petrified mask trapped before a grim
Wight roaming, brittle bones breaking; en-
Croaching were the shadows – a brook of
Tears – relentless was the bombardment.
And no brothers to mourn, no maiden
Mother’s cry, no sisters moaning, bathed
In sacred love; the wraithlike shepherd,
The cross incarnadine. Wither the flaxen
Fields, ye naked flowers of the innocent?
The ebbing of an azure inimitable hallowed
Heart, where ephemeral songs are drowned
In doom and toxic sands. And the night clove
Down, and then the thunder, and the moon
Bore nigh on the one that wept; as each breath
Grew ungentle – and beyond the pounding
Of the guns – the Archfiend’s deathly hand