A Troubled Passing of the Light, Into the Darkness of My Night


standing in a darkened trail,
a pulsing orb hangs thin and frail,
Pulsing crimson, strong and pure,
Pulsing above his sepulcher.
Unawares, is he of this,
passing on in unmatched bliss.
From behind a shadow comes,
Hes fully caught. He cannot run.

There's no escape, from this pain,
From this burning, acid rain.
A crimson orb hangs by string,
hangs by a thread, faltering.
gone is this unfailing strength,
happiness from marrow drained,
A future to this orb denied,
to another the strength applied.

To another's thirst to slake?
yes, to another, a crawling snake.
Sullied himself, in his rut,
To the quick it did One cut.
Tear her to the pulsing core,
yet to the reptile she clings more,
To more important pain, to her,
To darkness this orb deferred.

Now the pit, the orb does find,
to the darkness, not unkind.
a descent that is none too gentle,
To Death's e'er crowded lentil.
This tests its mettle, will it pass?
To the end, will it last?
Maybe, but i wonder if,
happiness will ever find this riff.

This wound is deep, and hardly clean,
Not to be filled by any seen.
God, it hurts, so much to bear,
and it will always linger there.
unforgotten, she'll remain,
This pulsing love fraught with pain,
will never die, though the bearer may,
get his peace in some barren day.


Swallow whole the Dawn, Leviathan,
For soon enough my Night Begins.