At Ruin

to Andrew


In stifling drowsy mounth of June
I went through wood long afternoon.
Black water cloud over the head,
Tight nettle smell, horse drenched in sweat.

Witches finger's something doing,
Led me to a lost christian ruin.
Opened eyes blue-windowed nook;
Saint Stephen throws suspicious look.

Sweet rose unfold in fantasy,
Wisth lust girl moans in extasy,
Priest flipping pages of the Book,
Round dance the beatuies, leading me to brook,
Or lake, or pool, oh nevermind -
Their faces were so red, so fine!

Behind procession motley guards
Like from the deck of Tarot cards,
Bards singing merry little song
Of groom and bride and so along,
Gold light is falling from blue sky
My brothers're here - I thought they died!

Some flying angel see event
And frowning wild he made descend:

"Lost trail to Avalon Isle" - he cried.
"The Golden Age is radiant behind!
Theese days of Sad Brightnessfall
No saints are left, white dress in dirt.

Oh Brendon, sinner, can't you see the light,
Why abandoned thee eye sight?
Why burning river your heart through,
How could you let His dreams come true! 

That world is lost
I took the sign.
There is no soul,
No afterlife!
No Judgment Day
But Killing Stroke,
Poisonus stream
To Oblivion!

Continue evil,
Continue worthless life!
No ways for breathing,
No space to fight.

I'll pray to God you may be blessed:
Forever life in restlessness"


Sudden standing garden gray
The angel took my dream away.
Tangle branches holds the skull,
Unnoticed passed leaves fly apart.

Howling gentle sleeping place,
Sorrow portraits on stone plates;
Tears falling ground lead drops,
Someone's saved and someone's cursed.