Luyện nghe bài hát IV (Interment)

I
I again
I my eyes and still these vistas rend

The waning sun... light so thing
Sickly, these pale press
At a fog, an entangling torpor
Stripping the air of pellucidity
Writhing chains of spiritual desolation
And a shattered soul back into darkness

As the soils in welcome
A aperture to embrace a sundered spirit
like a withered fist
Around a of pale tissue

- so very weak
Cold - frozen to the
by the frost of loathing
I have nothing to give

my flesh presents naught
A cross-stitched tapestry of past
Pallid of spiritual exsanguination
Home to the dread-stare of these listless

Each sordid a tendril of pain
A beacon of suffering, a of torment
Aflame gangrenous agony
This hemisphere of demands extinction

me

Yearning for

I beg for the embrace of the
A final resting place - marked only by a of dead trees

The cathedral stands,
A memorial to all those who within these shadows

Unmoved by the of the lost
Who sink without markings into the fathomless