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#gothicmetal @JohnTheodorou The sky does not scream… It leans… and everything breaks. A dead sun hangs like rusted iron, chained above the sea, Its light is ash, its warmth is gone— it will not comfort me. The clouds are bruised, the air is tar, the wind drags broken stone, And every prayer returns to earth… unanswered… and alone. Cathedrals sink with open mouths, their bells fill up with brine, Kings crawl through the blackened streets to beg for borrowed time. But time is just a corpse tonight, a thing that cannot move— The world is held beneath a weight… that calls itself the Great Divine. Hear it… Not thunder— A door closing in the sky. Oh Great Divine… Come down like a mountain. Lay Your shadow on my breath. We fed the flame, we forged the famine— Now teach us how to taste our death. Oh Great Divine… If mercy lives, unseal it, If love survives this pyre— But if we’re dust, then grind us honest… Under the wheel… of holy fire. The ocean climbs the skeleton roads, slow as funeral drums, It swallows streetlights one by one— the last of what we’ve become. The stars go out like candles pinched by fingers made of night, And angels— carved from stormglass— fall without a sound… or light. Forests kneel in ember robes, the mountains split and sigh, The earth opens its blackened ribs and breathes a poisoned sky. We watch our cities fold to salt, our flags to ash and thread— And every name we tried to save… is written with the dead. Hear it… Not judgement— A truth that doesn’t blink. Oh Great Divine… Come down like a mountain. Lay Your shadow on my breath. We fed the flame, we forged the famine— Now teach us how to taste our death. Oh Great Divine… If mercy lives, unseal it, If love survives this pyre— But if we’re dust, then grind us honest… Under the wheel… of holy fire. Sea at the door. Sky in my throat. The book of my sins… Turning… slow… Page by page… Bone by bone… I don’t fear the end… I fear the scale. I fear the moment my soul is measured… And found… hollow. Oh Great Divine… Come down like a tombstone. Seal the liar in my skin. Take the crown, take the excuse, take the altar— Leave the truth… and let it win. Oh Great Divine… If there’s a dawn beyond the ruin, If there’s a shore past the mire— Drag me through the falling heavens… Slow… and certain… Through the fire. The sky does not scream… It closes.