The darkness shrouds me,
Like midnight skirts.
My scars are here for all to see,
Though the shadows are my veil,
Swallowing my sorrow,
I know I’ll be dead on the morrow.
The silence holds my keening,
This wordless howl that holds no meaning.
Already I feel the dead’s cold caresses,
That mourn what their owners’ lost.
Soon I too will walk down,
That last and endless hall,
And at the end a blade will fall.
My time is coming,
And when I fade from this fickle world,
I’ll fade alone.
But for now I weep,
And my soul these prison stones will keep.
Until I enter my cold eternal sleep.