Pan therra anarchi-a

He doesn't know oblivion
doesn't admit world I am
alone in
pretends not to see
how painful is to be
hard on the light turned
on
the palm of the angel
till I hang on
the trodden madness
like 'verse in drop of water
he
glitters when I come
in
the middle of scourge
nothing is going to waste
me hold his hand on the edge of
love
is anarchi-a
beastie destiny from mist
the truth is
like
pan therra risening out
of abyss’s beginning