| The Restless Mills |
|---|
| 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. |
