and what immortal hand or eye could frame
the cities drowned in sharp, unspoken fears,
and sound the silent depths and dream to tame
their deepest of abyssal teeth. and years
will pass and years will follow down below.
and roaming jaws will take their prey and grin
and fear no cosmic consequence. they know
that blackened waves will hide the darkest sin.
no faith survives these godforsaken seas,
no faith can match the weight of death and space--
the snow of snuffed-out souls feeds this disease:
leaves leper scars on corpses doomed to waste,
and soft, with gentle hands it leads them down
and hushes restless lungs, and lets them drown.