The Hymn of All That Dies


Sing the song of bones
Crumbling ere to dust
To dance in soil
Neath the roil
As day succumbs to dusk.

Sing the song of teeth
Grinding, grinning, gnashing
In hunger sated
And breath not bated
Crumble their ivory casings.

Sing the song of guts
Pulped entrails askew
This visceral want
In graveyards flaunt
A stench, the earthen roux.

Sing the song of blood
Sticky smears ablooming
Crusting 'pon dirt
This womb converts
In decay, all-consuming.

Sing the song of death
Its reach both near and far
A VAST unending
Twisting, bending
Exalted resivoir.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 13th of Midsummer, in the year 464 MA.