Riding towards the horizon
Upon the monumental rocks, awaiting
the end of a dishonourable life,
I perceive my morality fading to
a weakly seeming substance,
climbing towards my yer unsealed
faith, I arrive (faith arrives)
Staring into the abyss of Midgard,
above, the Angels of Asgard
and the armour of Loges child.
I´m losing myself in an odyssey through
the bottomless
depth of my spiteful soul.
At the end, the will to die.
My nag becomes restive,
I open up my eyes
and spread out my arms:
«God of gods, take my inglorious soul!
here is nothing left, for me…»
God of gods, …
My hands are longing for the lance
and aim at my vulnerable essence.
God of gods, …
As I lift to strike…
A sudden lightning bannes my glace.