Cau Modry

Seal the twilight robes in the mountain gallery

The void of stone and pillar shall guide thee

In the illuminated hallway of a haunted chasm

There exists only the fires of war and the spoils of the sea

By a knoll of both archaic grass and ash and sand

The cold lingers along a warm path of land

An oculus leading to the rock which crushed them

The quarry stands with a frigid touch of a lost hand

In the morning 

With subtle breaks of dawn

Another day by summit 

Shall be forever in noonward perpetuum 

The dusk calls for the tears of the sun

As the love rises 

And they'll vanish in memories

Of childhood fantasy and destinies

The master stone has fallen 

The legend still shimmers in a house

By which the voices carry their tone

The words of the actors 

In visions of home

And so the lighted lament the sojourn 

Crafting the art of brutality 

Scratching upon the visual poem

The love of the undergrounds

Real winds flowing from the mouth of death

Intros and outros of egos and pathos

Peace and forgiving wanders in the black halls

Forever they'll whisper their presence