The Restless Mills


Earth's hell was a pit of fuming furnaces
Firing cauldrons of blood
Moving monstrous wheels
Where the air was stale from foul belief
In a shadow, so faint - yet salaciously desired
to be that of god to reach into these naked depths
And shaped in soot a silhouette
Of outstretched arms and torso
At a giant cross
A desperate view onto the restless mills
That grind grind grind
Jahwe, you were the breeder of a pest cocoon
And whatever your gift was -
Dreadful were the mills that crushed it







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