Across the Nival Grove


Ebony ravens shall drown the sky
Above the nival grove, they fly
The howl of the wolves is a stormy caress,
when haunting nights shall effloresce

Ossiferous walls, we fortify
the confines of our minds; petrify
beneath our exigency. Sunset
is the lake in which we convalesce

Cracked and fallow, wandering amidst the forlorn tombs
Cloaked within the ever-dreary gloom that they thus exude

Her echoing laments suffused within my chasmal veins
They permeate this deeper silence where I am enchained

Beneath the limbs of an ancient oak, entwined in her embrace—
The arboreal haven chokes and drowns in bitter rain

And so I haunt the forest trails that we had once called home
Eternal dreams belie the moon-washed woods where I repose

And the willows of death shall consume
Open this blossoming wound!
As titanic upheavals exhume,
Stay with me, fall to ruin

And the willows of death shall consume
In the shadow of blood, moss, and roots;
In the dew-streaked forest, you seduced.
Stay with me, fall to ruin

O harvest moon, sing a song of despair,
and illuminate my lifeless pallor,
in the clearing where my rotting bones shall remain

From my wrists to the riverbed,
to flow and dance as crimson streams,
invoking the omniscient pantheon of night

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