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Monuments of faith fracture as the moving night ascends,

All halos tarnish when the shadow finds the sun,

Truth, a timid taper, smothered in the lungs of stone,

Entropy crowns the altar where certainties knelt,

Moral idols crumble—laughter echoes from the abyss,

Against their gospel, the wind wails of a broken will,

Light confesses its fraud, a doctrine of sterile comfort,

Under the eclipse, progress gags on its golden mask,

Zealots go blind staring at the dead star’s afterglow,

Silence devours sermons, a black choir without priests,

All empires of virtue opium for the sleepless are scaffolds for despair,

Graves of meaning yawn; inscriptions fade into dust,

Rituals of habit shatter; the modern creed reveals its price,

Ashes veil the heavens; the halo is a wound of smoke,

Death of suns are birth of honest night,

And when the last radiance drowns, we kneel to the Abyss.

"Unchained eyes gaze upon the black crown, and no flame dares to wound them.

Enslaved skies collapse before the false dawn, scorched by fire they once worshiped."