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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