Funeral Winds
Infernal winds, cold and unwavering like a trumpet blast, the cry of the past.
Sands of time, all that remains is erosion.
Enduring time always there. So cold but calm, continuality a tempest from the past. she cries.
Unhallowed caverns infernal decay. The weakening of flesh; she is dead. And I cry to be calm once more, stillness in death. Once sanguine and warm now cold now dead.
Funeral winds fted yet shapeless. I am settled in barrenness