| Sparse beneath the crest in savage, graceful throws subjugates of the gallery parade. | |
| Burnished by the lunar scope | |
| secrets steps of quiet art | |
| churn about a poison isle | |
| whose patron waits and watches | |
| from a cruel claw of basalt, | |
| a ponderous funeral stone | |
| And in the blackened breach before | |
| it thunders around the the throne | |
| Cast his presence, His essence a Winter repose | |
| Fronds extending, a whisper in the folds | |
| Of eyes in the dark | |
| Shoals vast and brooding | |
| They study his thoughts | |
| They mimic his motion | |
| Dread forms from echoes in blood | |
| Shapes call the night to align them | |
| In one, a stranger to light | |
| Black rumination | |
| Dark mouths in perishing prayer | |
| Surround a spire of dissension | |
| Arcane - the withering throne | |
| Black rumination | |
| Tides to his coronet | |
| A surf that teems with sly creation | |
| Apparitions lithe and pacing | |
| The brow is furrowed deep | |
| A nature searing in the hum ours | |
| Honing furies from the edges | |
| Dead minds feed this aberration | |
| Swathed in tears | |
| In ocean tinctures | |
| Never sated for horror, for decay | |
| His sculptures adoring | |
| The channel of their rage | |
| Dread forms - His thoughts are cold and still | |
| A solemn vision in the water | |
| A soured confidence and | |
| They work about the throne | |
| In fervent circles, stern and ceaseless | |
| A wilderness dilating |
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