As life poured in to art,
to form angelic rhyme
expressions from the heart
blew forth to phantom time
But Abaddons breath grew stronger,
nature took its toll on man
taking life from memory
un-fossilised, un-formed
up from that lonely landscape, grey
life labored for a breath
one rung on lifes long ladder-
yet left for him to fall
Abaddon’s crafts were wicked,
as ink swelled upon her form
with last now coming first
Styx’s unyielding kilter true
and so, your grave approached you
with godless intervene,
sidling to thou grave,
un-lived and yet un-seen.
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