The shrill sound of clarion signaled
The coming of the dreary chariot casting mist in its wake,
It’s devouring hands blotting out Helios’ warmth.
Sweet cold deluge fell from high above,
A gift, a console to those vacant grave eyes
And a veil to the deafening outcry of one’s heart.
Unwavered gaze of hope bestowed upon the slate of death,
Scraped knees bended on sharp blades of scarlet grass,
Fervent prayers to the Great Unknown,
Awaiting for love’s ascend from the Underworld.
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