Sol et Luna, Henri Gang (11

Sol et Luna

Henri Gang, 11

Behold the face of morning, Unyielding in joyous delight, Only the lionhearted, Will stand to see the night.

Seven strokes of the hand, Crafts the plans of providence, Fruitful in reply, How potent, the poisons respond in stride.

Behold the awe of dawn, Take no advance upon that fright, Only those gallant and worthy, Will stand to seize the night.

Callow and fearless, Born are the men of new, Pandering to the instruments of war, Betrayed by those sovereign chiefs, Justice escapes the grasp forevermore.

The gales of woe and dismay, Blue venom envelops the mind, Nothing save miracle of time, Will grant solace in line.

Walls renewed by bracing innocence, Of love and gaiety they erupt, The Family mast stands tall in the Halls of Man, No foe no adversary, Threatens to disrupt.

Behold the forces of life, Under the Plutonian moon, Bellowing the death knell, Prepare yourself, For that eternal night.

Don’t be afraid, Just open the door, No final glance nor cursory stare, Until into nothingness you go once more.