Light numbs on the snow.
The hum of a massacre.
Now it's our turn
To debut at winter's austere ball
Where every song ends in silence,
And every elegy waltzes.
We are ready
To disrobe in the Garden of Eden
As the bomb falls onto the earth
And our bones quake like those of barbarians.
Do we perish once He sees?
Our scream, too, is God's creation,
Merely a sinful convulsion.
Advance! Our enemies may be watching.
How violent, how vibrant it is
To cast fire, to paint autumn
On the crowded canvas of the battlefield.
Life breathes into nothing.
This is how we must perform
So we can be preserved
As specimens, a collection of dehydrated bodies
Solidifying with time.
Beyond time there rises a most beautiful crimson,
The sunset of civilization.
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