These verses are soldiers and beads of the Trinity,
a war is a game of choice,
for judgments start swarming and spread to infinity
with moods' fluctuating voice.
A combat gains glory and counts on mortality,
a battlefield’s tunnel wide.
As tall, as world's wisdom is human vitality,
the sky’s given free for glides.
The sagas of narrowing walls close the tunnel,
like gates of a primal church.
Young blood needs a filter, hearts are the funnels,
and hell’s where sins are torched.
I'm glad you are near by squeezing the trigger,
to set up Apocalypse.
The True Love is pumping with time growing bigger,
and prayers don’t leave my lips.
These verses are warriors, the Angelic Army,
they sooth what the Sun impales.
The burrow has ended the time lag of Karma
for what every time prevails.
May 8, 2007
Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko