they were drawn nigh by void,
|
by abyss, tranquillity, heat,
|
demise and silence
|
the perfect order of death
|
the angels of illusion
|
ready for creation
|
the grand show
|
of the universe
|
|
for great are the forces
|
of fusion and flames
|
there, where the bitter fear ends
|
where power grows in strength
|
|
for open are the goblets of despair
|
and the circlet made of thorns
|
here, in the caves, where
|
the illusion and freedom fade
|
|
and from their hands
|
a fire shall spring
|
and craft the suns
|
the angels of illusion
|
in the act of making
|
the art of an endless creation
|
|
for great are the forces
|
of fusion and flames
|
from their hands
|
a fire shall spring
|
the suns and the worlds
|
united in fire
|
shall last until
|
the next creation
|
|
-----------------
|
The Art Of An Endless Creation
|
| Dies Irae |
