Beneath the Iron Veil
Echoes of the holy grace, for this place,
Endless woe of devolution,
Forever entice, your grace,
The moon is your solution.
Confined in this space, of endless grace,
Under the moonlight, it is illusion,
Illusion of woe, forever retrace,
It is all persuasion, or is it union?
Shadows creep, where darkness breeds,
A symphony of sorrows, never-ending,
Lost souls wander, planting crushed seeds,
A tale, forever transcending.
Copyright ©
Charles Cuellar
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