Oceans End

The grime covered men, Shuffling lame, in packs Of pitiless murk Ghastly overtures fill the air. There is no life here Murky waters flow, No freedom to breath Under such putred hate they stay. But truths, from joyous angels delivered Soothe such smoldering denials And evaporate those tasteless fears Unholy angels, circling, are waiting below. Now drawn, Bequeathed to the oceans edge May the truth be uncovered And guises shed.