In depths that pull, ageless, in the void before time.
They come across an aged oak. Now, drawing close,
Skinless fingers grip the trunk. The sleeper wakes.
Dappled light throws silhouettes on a dilapidated wall.
Through scattered leaves, the scent of an unwelcome dawn, fill the senses, drained of comfort, warmth and hope. Waking stupor fades too soon.
And she's alone again. A spectral form. A tale of loss to tell remains untold.
When memory finally fades, what of the lost?
If their voices cannot be heard, alone they'll walk.
And hunger for release. Gone, but not at peace.
The lives that they once lived, haunt them, still.
What kind of cruelty awaits beyond the waking world?
Illumination denied to chosen few.
Uncomprehending. Without an ending.
Purgatorial wounds never heal.
For the whole of immemorial time that slides slowly by.
They are hoping without knowing why they cannot die.
They come across an aged oak. Now, drawing close,
Skinless fingers grip the trunk. The sleeper wakes.
Dappled light throws silhouettes on a dilapidated wall.
Through scattered leaves, the scent of an unwelcome dawn, fill the senses, drained of comfort, warmth and hope. Waking stupor fades too soon.
And she's alone again. A spectral form. A tale of loss to tell remains untold.
When memory finally fades, what of the lost?
If their voices cannot be heard, alone they'll walk.
And hunger for release. Gone, but not at peace.
The lives that they once lived, haunt them, still.
What kind of cruelty awaits beyond the waking world?
Illumination denied to chosen few.
Uncomprehending. Without an ending.
Purgatorial wounds never heal.
For the whole of immemorial time that slides slowly by.
They are hoping without knowing why they cannot die.