Xenobiotic Prometheus I: Aether
Upon the precipice
Of the towering pulpit of the Earth
Above the ruins of the broken dream of creation
The tyrants of old demand of all things
Reverence they do nothing to deserve
Perpetual hunger devouring mortal souls and flesh
The children of creation suffer
Slowly awaiting certain death
Watching a world void of light
Crumbling to dust before their eyes
Shall I honour you? What for?
Have you softened the pains of burden?
Have you silenced the tears of anguish?
O holiest of burning hearts