Aethyria Through The Aethyr
The lids of cloud pour the tears of hymn. O' Transient ghost, scatter my limbs. Through the Aethyr, salt burnt sulphur. I blaze forever, Immortal... Portal. Destroy all form, formless my wings. It is of not, not of these things. Destroy all form, formless my wings. It is of not; awakening. Earth soaked in grape wine, with our tongues on fire; pouring the tears of dismay.
