untitled #4 unfinished.

from the mouth of the ocean, the siren's voices travel downstream.
carried upon the shimmering, crystal-like waves,
the notes which bodies were thick and glistening, tip-toed over the glass-like figure of the water.
knowing that a single uneven step could pierce the dainty surface
and their age old quest to find persephone would be forever beyond grasp.
reporting back to demeter empty handed was never an option.
the beauty of their hymn was paramount only to their unparalleled visual splendour.
all the harpies of hell, guardians and the damned cannot help but awe at the creatures.
lucifer himself and the three unforgivable traitors weeped in the wake of their brilliance;
for but a single moment, pain was not foremost and those who had betrayed god, the saviour and their kindred
were able to bask in the luminous for a moment so fleeting.
yet the light was but little too warm to melt their icy imprisonments;
thus their torturous existences live on.
no longer that of a seraphim, apostle, leader or soldier but that of dolorous beings.

as the siren's song travelled from the tyrrhenian to every corner of the earth;
from the arctic to the southern, the atlantic to the pacific, the song was inescapable.
turmoil reigned supreme as man began to search for the origin of the heavenly choirs.
overcome by lust, man followed the sound blindly into the ocean,
swimming as far as their humanly vessels could possibly carry them.
as their souls and spirits ascended to heaven and their anchors floated along the surface,
they looked down at what they had left and saw the endless seas full of death and decay.
angered by their foolishness, the lost souls cried out to the heavens for absolution
but were denied.
souls shot down like shooting stars. catching clouds ablaze, falling back to earth.
the cinders fell from the sky like snow;
blackening the landscape and obscuring every identifiable landmark,
covering every feature and filling every canyon.