Misericordial

In a future time we would be stalactites permaglued to the roof of a cave

Hollow Mirror

Right now we are passenger, hydroponically cultivating regret as we toss seeds off Charon's boat

Hollow Mirror

Expecting no answer from God's highest Choir of Angels, all Seven Trumpets ring to alert us

Hollow Mirror

That there are millions of eyes that spontaneously have closed and rivers of blood will rain back down from the sky

Hollow Mirror