The Stone-Tape Memoirs

Their faces in the bark of the trees,

Stare.

Their voices entwined with the reeds,

Scream.

Their tunes of darkness’s key,

Sing.

Pallid Death will weave you into

This land.

Prolonged is the repetition

Of hours.

Pale, final bleak hours

Of yore.

Limitless scenes of life

Of unknown age,

Lamented till Time’s death;

In its dreams stay,

Lovelorn to the careful

Wanderer.

Within the stone-tape

You shall lay.

Whisper from myriad

Engravings in the air.

Where, the woeful

Hours be traced.