Your voice, a lullaby
to my restless nights—
an embrace from
someone I’ve never known.

It lays down with me
here in my tomb,
awaiting ascension.
It knocks at the sepulchre
of my subconscious.

I yearn to know you.
Your rituals are devotions.
I long to learn from the gods.
Divinity has graced this sepulchre,
tapping the hard walls of this tomb.

Is this the voice of salvation,
or an echo of loss?
Am I ascending to heaven,
or are you descending with me to hell?

Your voice digs deep into my core,
down to my stone-cold being.
My flesh has rotted—
bled down to the marrow—
yet the feathers of your wings
have graced my lost soul.

In this sepulchre,
you knocked at my tomb.
You offered no redemption—
yet your presence is a confession.

A siren with feathers,
your presence lingers,
even without knowing you.

Your soul echoes within me.
Your songs, are sacred runes—
they cry and bleed,
like the river that flows through me.

Something ancient awakes,
knocking on these sepulchre walls.
It transcends heaven, hell, and earth—
an otherworldly communion,
carved out beyond mortal flesh.

Your voice lies beside me in this tomb.
A lingering presence,
keeping me grounded
as I await ascension.


- N.V. 🥀