through the timeless time of mourning,
through the shades of starless dust,
through the night that knows no dawning,
walk the path of bones and rust.
travel like a phantom wandring,
Masked and cloaked in shattered skemes,
through the void of soundless thundering,
Bear the load of scattered dreams.
forge from dross a mask of steel,
Blank to hide the mark of cane,
Craft from thoughts a state unreal,
a shield of thought to hide the pain.
Practice arts of blythe dissembling,
duplicity to hide the guilt,
a shambling likeness in resembling,
the one that was ere blood was spilt.
Yet despite all craft and masteries,
Despite the cunning work of years,
Whatever dark and valed artistries,
for ever marked a face with tears.
Hate the sham and hate the seeming,
Hate the one who waits unbseeing,
Hate the self to scared for dreaming,
hate the coward's pointless beeing.
Sit and drink the void deserving,
the ancient night well known and tracked,
Oncemore walk the path unswerving,
and pretend there's no way back.
But once again you'll leave the nightlands,
Begin again the task and toil,
walk again the dim twilight lands,
As ebbs the night like clinging oil.
but not for courage or resolving,
not for want of light of sun,
Not by hope your dark desolving,
Just because it must be done.