The Urn

The host of a thousand sorrows
This path before me I know not
These limbs no longer my own
Their whispers haunt my every thought

In stasis, my cold body entrapped
Lost in a world I hath forgot
I hearken to the calling black
Knowing there’s no turning back

In a sunken state of tribulation
I mourn the weeping dead
And caress the urn of our misfortunes

Clawing through the endless trench
Toll the bell of absolution
Of my suffering nevermore

The solitude that which I seek
Awaits me beyond the glowing door
The host of a thousand sorrows

This path before me I know not
These limbs no longer my own
Their whispers haunt my every thought

Like dust in the carrying winds
My traces here to vanish clean
By the final hymn; forsaken