Black Majesty - SubRosa

Isn’t it good to be acquainted with darkness

To caress it gently, to slit its throat

To know the hidden pockets, caves and grottos of the mirrored landscape

To catch a glimpse of black majesty

To know there’s more horror to this existence than anyone could ever know

Standing in the shadow of our own?

Isn’t it beautiful

To know exquisite remorse

To see the truth that drives men fleeing into early graves

To be wise, to dream every day of a great escape, of a Houdini blade?

We love the taste of false perfection — the more the lies, the more we laud

Isn’t it beautiful to live and die alone, to carve a path out of unyielding

stone between the crushing narrow divide of the war of two tribes steeped in a

hate so narrow and deep it leaves two inches of earth on either side to save

you from the final breath-taking fall into a deep hush — a silence so profound

that your ears run and melt with the deafening sound?