As my vision fades, I whisper aesthetic

Lines blurred, the definition of boundaries unknown
My doubt stacks on fears as more questions unfold
Will the history of the end be documented on bones?
Or does he transcend to forge a new path without woes.
I seriously doubt that, for what are we without woes?
It’s like the church without the devil, nothing but dusty pews.
Draw the attention of the light with the blood of six million Jews.
But still silence, He once spoke to a selected few.
When all hope departs, my soul clings on to the darkness and his rhetoric.
As my vision fades I whisper aesthetic.