Holy Grief

Straps of sorrow cover the spirit

Wandering in the shadows of life and death

Raging emotions turn to numbness

As the images of those long gone recede.

The skies bleed awe

And lakes cry blood

As we lay apart

Retching our love.

Psalms of the ancient ones

Pierce the withering throat of our faith

And we inhale the smell

Of divinity rotting in its grave.

One last memory mingles

Of faint chants and broken vows

And until the next dawn

It shall engulf the sanity of his mind

Blinded by false light

He steps on razors and shattered glass

No pain tears his flesh

The real agony is already gone.

In the kingdom of holy grief

The mourning of the wanderer begins

No veils ,no remorse

Only the whispers of a foreign shore.