Imprint into being

That tangled mass, 

that net, 

that wad of greasy threads, 

interconnecting knots upon knots, 

spliced with stray hairs, 

growing out and inwards, 

piercing, 

enlacing, 

strangling wire cords stripped of crumbling dust of insulating plastic, 

bare metal, 

charged potential exposed, 

to singe, 

to fray, 

to etch cursed runes upon those remaining soft tissues not yet calloused or scarred over, 

scrapes and slides past an edge of thought, 

gouges its imprint across being.

That buried spire, 

fragile frame of crystal, 

bone splinter cruciform,

composed of all that dredged,

of sepulcher harvests, 

of crow stalked fields,

of the wind drifts on lost shores,

it's shattering halted,

those shards remnants,

of the great ice wall,

knocked loose to drain world oceans, 

to find that underworld place, 

to unearth this hidden anathema,

emerges now,

reveals a form,

a new message,

to imprint into being.