Endless Cemetery

Beneath a shawl of midnight silence

A howling blackness

Where all is remade in necromorphosis

Asleep in human remains

Worn from the stones

Elegiac words

Recounting hopes

And forgotten lives

For beneath them lies

The dust of humans

The dust of dreams

The dust...

A coach drawn by the blackest steeds

As befits those who've passed from life

Will bring you to where swarm the specters

Of man's best-loved funerals

The laws of flesh are here repealed:

Vigor mortis is now on the way

So count the black beads of your sorrow

While you stammer your frightened prayers

Readjust your vision, see the warp in the shadows...

There's something wrong with the dark:

Something that thrives on wretchedness and sorrow

And makes the darkness crawl

Rain-swelled clouds

Blot out the sun

Damned nor'easter

Chilling the dark

Branches, sticks

Thistles, thorns

Feathers, fur

Mud and bones...

Dying ground

A lifeless thing of earthen heath

Seeing soil from beneath

Knows the need to summon flesh

To its maw

Cold blue lips frame (a) yard-wide grin

That calls to flesh, to let it in

And thus indulge its yearning

Come the unDawn

Roam the endless cemetery of what once was

(where) the Allfeeling is never truly gone