Babel

Augury tones spoke of omnipresence, placed their own conception for world became. Begotten mad. Begotten mania. She watched the mad, the mania for years. Empty devotion behind their death-masks. "Betwixt the moon the yonside our prayers wist light." "Betwixt the moon the yonside our prayers wist light." One day this desert will bury them all. Oh, but this Tower? All but this Tower. Prayers.. Full on mirages. Full false hopes. Watching over. Flesh pushed-through on top the tower. She there, immaculate conception. Buried the chanting the chanters in hold. Incandescence beshoned raw exposure; their masks rendered into flames, skin, blood and bones. All for the sake of famine and remorse.