Spiritual

All I know is this ocean raging with aridness, 
This stormy heath of infinite darkness not even the sea can wet, 
Stirred by lightning and writhed by unseen waves: 
One's soul is within a glass sphere 
Floating across this black land, 
Yearning for a heart's concent 
Like a silver dove's song 
Echoing lost messages through gothic cities, 
Whilst the lone artist glides home in thick night. 
Within this cradle, I am flickering 
In the crucible of marbled night and 
Whilest within the crucible of invisible depressions, 
This cradle will surely rock; 
To crack and I'll be melting away 
Into this God given heaven of moonlight 
Found within the condoning fathoms of death in sin...

Cradle to the Crucible