art by Peter Mohrbacher

art by Peter Mohrbacher

Israfel, Shadow of Perfect Bliss

 

The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit—
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervour of thy lute—
Well may the stars be mute!
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely—flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.
If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.

Israfel, Angel of Song

israfel_angel_seraphim_song_Mohrbacher
 

The burning one.
Herald of the dawning day.
Summoner of the final hour.

written by Peter Mohrbacher

art by Eli Minaya

art by Eli Minaya