|
The assembler of souls absorbs all within his reach |
|
His seemingly perpetual glance of doom |
|
Would even make the smallest of serenities breach |
|
As he rides he wind being the ghost of gloom |
|
Running darkness all around |
|
A knife in her hand |
|
Fall, rising, screaming the name of her beloved |
|
So weak, and so weary |
|
Something blackening her thoughts |
|
A cloud, a force, a weight |
|
Finding her true love lying in red |
|
Is this reality or just a vision in her head |
|
To be the knife as well as the wound |
|
Is all that concerns her |
|
Overwhelmed by a burden, like hordes of fear |
|
The obscurity of the vale of tears |
|
Grasping for safety, which lies all so near |
|
Incresent malice of the vale of tears |
|
Wandering oblivious in the foggy twilight |
|
Shades of an obelisk shines so bright |
|
Incredulous thoughts, bewildering her mind |
|
Is there really a god to find |
|
Halting through the darkest of forests |
|
The obese and extraneous at her tail |
|
This haunting, lingering to the extreme |
|
She is about to quail |
|
Then a formless mass of black, went skyward |
|
Stars began to fade behind a veil of dark blue velvet |
|
She stopped, she listened, nothing |
|
Silence, an eternity passed |
|
The silhouettes of something unseen, a presence |
