Luyện nghe bài hát IV (Interment)

I
I descend
I closed my eyes and still these vistas

The waning sun... light so thing
Sickly, these pale press
At a gruesome fog, an entangling
the fenland air of pellucidity
Writhing of spiritual desolation reach
And beckons a shattered back into darkness

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

- so very weak
Cold - to the marrow
by the frost of loathing
I have nothing left to

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

Each sordid limb a tendril of
A beacon of suffering, a spite of
Aflame gangrenous agony
This of decrepitude demands extinction

me

Yearning for

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

The stands, omniscient
A memorial to all those who walked these shadows

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