Conqueror

Silence the sound of fear’s discords And gaze upon this gala night Insipid illusion amid pale grey light And we pray for the worm to devour Growing fond of this self-same spot And the circling path to and fro Trained by time to ignore our own cries Like the moans of lepers passed by While far away playing fiercely upon Majestic flutes of grim portent Hordes of entropy rise to disperse On condor wings of invisible woe The cold wind a whining murmured refrain Stark indifference, driving forth without purpose Elemental waste competing with stone and rain To wear away, to disperse, to call forth the wurm In moss covered prison, what hope have we To wipe the dust from our eyes To heed the echoing screams behind To silence the fear, to not be blind?