The assembler of souls absorbes all within his reach His seemingly perpetual glance of doom Would even make the smallest of serenities breach As he rides the wind being the ghost of doom Running darkness all around A knife in her hand Falling, rising, screaming the name of her beloved So weak, and so weary Something blackening her thoughts A cloud, a force, a weight Finding her true love lying in red Is this reality or just a vision in her head To be the knife as well as the wound Is all that concerns her Overwhelmed by a burden, like hordes of fear The obscurity of the vale of tears Grasping for safety, which lies all so near Incresent malice of the vale of tears Wandering oblivious in the foggy twilight Shades of an obelisk shines so bright Incredulous thoughts, bewildering her mind Is there really a God to find Halting through the darkest of forests The obese and extraneous at her tail This haunting, lingering to the extreme She is about to quail Then a formless mass of black, went skyward Stars began to fade behind a veil of dark blue velvet She stopped, she listened, nothing Silence, an eternity passed The silhouettes of something unseen, a presence