1st; On Golden Censer

Poem By Rus Sneddon

Thankful in spirit,
Being able to hold up in the remission of Ecstasy,
For making Love should hold Ecstasy in joy,
And this orbital has shown Ecstasy
As a drug
And a toy.
It is not about reaching a height of mind.
A tabernacle of souls fallen from treason
And the joy is bestowed to harlequin reaping,
Bid reason?

Ecstasy is not a toy.

But, is about opening the curtains
To welcome a new day,
In the remission I diseased myself,
Surely this safety would power Axes,
Maddest Occultist magik emotion
Lest not forsaken,
Falls all.

And...
At first, I knew the games were real,
I knew how she would feel if one seal was torn away,
She knew I'd love her like the earth
Her ecstasy, her wealth,
I can't believe what we have done,
For we have treated her so wrong
But now I see.

She always threw my dreams down to the ground
With no restraint or even a frown
As she strolled away from me,
I felt inside a pain so deep but this heart bestowed has reaped
Of an Ecstasy in Love
And I know
I'll never lose the pain inside of me.
ô

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Worked out in my mind are the maps of Time
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Enclosed

Reeling reverence in a braidth of mind
solderin' hundreds of minute wee thoughts
around my ears, in efferfvescent light
like lucifiere valkeyrie