Straps of sorrow cover the spirit
Wandering in the shadows of life and death
Raging emotions turn to numbness

As the images of those long gone recede.

The skies bleed awe

And lakes cry blood
As we lay apart
Retching our love.


Psalms of the ancient ones
Pierce the withering throat of our faith

And we inhale the smell
Of divinity rotting in it's grave.


One last memory mingles
Of faint chants and broken vows
And until the next dawn

It shall engulf the sanity of his mind

Blinded by false light

He steps on razors and shattered glass
No pain tears his flesh
The real agony is already gone.


In the kingdom of holy grief
The mourning of the wanderer begins

No veils, no remorse
Only the whispers of a foreign shore.