Darkness deepens.
The day is being woven
Between the black and white threads.
From time immemorial,
The restless wind emerges and blows
Out of the ancestral graves.
By the tongues of the leaves
Death murmurs:
‘Life drops and splits like a tear,
Down the moorland where the devil vultures
Flutter with blade-like wings.
Everyone is betrayed in their sleep
By the dream that makes us smile
Yet leads into the blackhole of death.
The world overflows with funeral songs,
Each soul sings a dirge in the tomb.
After the violent fight with the shadows,
We yield with a scream
Echoing from clouds and hills.
It is our dreams that burn on every pyre,
Hope itself is buried in this battlefield,
The graveyard of the lost.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
Darkness deepens.
The day is being woven
Between the black and white threads.
From time immemorial,
The restless wind emerges and blows
Out of the ancestral graves.
By the tongues of the leaves
Death murmurs:
‘Life drops and splits like a tear,
Down the moorland where the devil vultures
Flutter with blade-like wings.
Everyone is betrayed in their sleep
By the dream that makes us smile
Yet leads into the blackhole of death.
The world overflows with funeral songs,
Each soul sings a dirge in the tomb.
After the violent fight with the shadows,
We yield with a scream
Echoing from clouds and hills.
It is our dreams that burn on every pyre,
Hope itself is buried in this battlefield,
The graveyard of the lost.