Luyện nghe bài hát IV (Interment)

I
I descend
I my eyes and still these vistas rend

The waning sun... it's so thing
Sickly, these pale shafts
At a gruesome fog, an entangling
the fenland air of pellucidity
Writhing chains of desolation reach
And a shattered soul back into darkness

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

Weak - so weak
- frozen to the marrow
Encased by the of loathing
I have nothing left to

Even my flesh presents
A cross-stitched tapestry of failings
vessel of spiritual exsanguination
Home to the dread-stare of these eyes

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

me

Yearning for

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

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

Unmoved by the of the lost
Who sink markings into the fathomless murk