Luyện nghe bài hát IV (Interment)

I
I again
I closed my eyes and still these rend

The sun... it's light so thing
Sickly, these shafts press
At a gruesome fog, an torpor
Stripping the air of pellucidity
Writhing of spiritual desolation reach
And beckons a shattered soul back into

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 to give

Even my flesh naught
A cross-stitched tapestry of failings
Pallid vessel of spiritual
Home to the dread-stare of listless eyes

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

me

Yearning for

I beg for the of the fens
A final resting place - marked only by a henge of dead

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

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