A Book of Ashes

In the book of ashes In the words of offerings, burnt They are hard bright, it blares white Like the stars gleaming cold, rare Nights passes as the gods of old, Stand in silence, stare In the book of ashes There are the marks of man burnt lashes Across Adams back, the martyr Scattered as the dust, fine grains of ash Remains suspended in the blast, turn To carbon at last So it is written In the book of ash