The Restless Mills - The Ruins Of Beverast

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.