Silent storm clouds
slow they came, in god’s name
bold and blinded
we’re the same, still no shame.
Is this our fall from grace
is this our final trace
is this the end of time
in this eleventh chime.
The crown of nature
pagan fools, pagan rules
a lost creation
seals the womb, seals the tomb.
Are we the last in line to read the clearest sign?
