An apostle of literature sleeps eyes closed; dreaming of water ways with a splash of crimson delight. His eyes flutter; awakened to falling Abremon, A tumulus ocean branches out grasping the searing rays; ode to the sun. Silver riches shine beneath the seas of parallel complexes; a skull sits bastardized, fallen from the heat. But it's not the skull of the trying hand reaching towards a goal. Fallen from grace with scorched wings; abandoned by the ocean breeze. Servants slaughter sheep to the howling of the moon strips of wool starlings moving as they fall. Beneath the iridescent river skies. The air is full and heavy. Icarus would be proud. A star lit sparkled sky outlined in feathers and wax; one for religion dies. Prayers of Agnostic combated Christian scrap yard metal wreckages; tapping on the window to the soul, the religious caucus pendulum swaying to and fro...