There was laughter in slow-drifting mornings A breeze in cups brimming with calm In each gesture, lightness resided And time ran fearless, without qualm There, where the day’s shard Turned into glow through conversation A young man – radiant, loose in stillness Toasted to the silence of haste Then corrupted Refuge of weary souls Purity stained by the act One that not even Judas could bear I want your soul on the demon’s trident As thunder of the unforeseen roared His voice, now shaped like blades Tore through the veil of profane and sacred But among the laughter of worn-out gold There’s always a thread that cuts in secret Words dressed in tender disguise Hide thorns within the context And atop the peak of betrayal Sweetness became a storm Where once there was tenderness Now a live ember lies – proud and warm They called him gently by name But in rage, he no longer answered to it And the most faithful – so near to the whole Were left distant, in a trivial split I want your soul on the demon’s trident As thunder of the unforeseen roared His voice, now shaped like blades Tore through the veil of profane and sacred No plea could reach him Nor hands grasp the spirit within He was fury in crimson bloom Remorseless, without a trace of wind And in that refuge of weary souls The thunder of the unforeseen roared He, whose voice was once ignored Impaled his enemy – and silenced all