The dead are like an ocean stilled Friend and foe alike in oblivions embrace And still we cannot cast aside our arms and rest Poisoned by the venom of belief Cast flailing into the crucible of fate By the negligence of dying gods That like decrepit beasts, have thrown their bodies down Their feral might relinquished, succumbing to decay Where rivers once roared and churned their course The shadows of the clouds are all that seem to move A burnished glow of fires on the seared horizon The flicker of embers around our feet Ashes of meaning drift beyond our broken grasp Fireflies against an endless wound of night A wasteland of embittered ghosts And the interment of our feeble hopes Draw down the wrathful storm to cleanse this ruined world And wash away mans ignobility Pray for atonement and the agonies to come So that those who follow may find a better path The storms I call to bear us To the mercy of the void Even in death Our blood will nourish the bounty of your Spring
ignobility, burnished, interment, churned, crucible