A day without a sun

On that faithfull day, behold the heavens were betrayed.
As the anchors of men wax self, to the shores of hell.
Where lay the bold?
Rather, groping for tent's shadows.
As the viliant, tool to grip,
the melancholic rhythms of fate,
as falls he monotonously on souls.
Thither calls out the street lads,
while danced they, to their hereos past,
in ecstasy to the melodies of gnashing teeth.
Skip us this day,thus away from karma,
plead saints screaming their prayers.
Heaven please;
bring us tidings from the black man,
afflict us with the chords of our past,
for tis' sweeter than myrrh,
with the deem pages of life,
tis' finer than the rainbows of hell.
Clothe us in the aparrels of yesterday,
that we may forget the greeting of the morrow.
If there be a God, hear yea the prayers of thy saints, and deny us the weight of brimstones.....gospel