Thou Bade Nothingness - Thy Serpent

In times, when I fain of a season

Itcs chill hold me wist, of an unknown reason

Greyness upon streams parlous and cool

Sheer the light which reflects from Plenilune

Ready to tale stars of wan, as both forwandered

And loath the ways thee all ran astounded

So did thine glaive rust with wind and water

So terrified of fallow thee roamed to gutter

Perhaps the fragments of thine willing skin

Saw no reflections of, what it called a bale king

Neither have Fall’s shades descended to leaves

Of no nightbird’s ashes belong to mine needs

Together a battle raged between moon

Likely the escorts of an velvect son

One lode led to forhungered wood

The frith were dark and thus thou run

As I see nothing but mere piece of meat

Trying to achieve as vision holds lack

Hanging upon wold, not wist the made plead

Twisting in gloam, this path fares not back…

Thus… Of no nightbird’s ashes shall I devour