Deathmoor

The coffin leaf-ships

Deathmoor
Look
Life is dropping
With dry
Yellow
Leaves
From the tired tree
Past
Present
Future
Moment may never come

Every autumn the souls burn away in fires…

Every autumn the souls burn away in fires
Of the unknown
Full of bitterness air

The illusion is vanishing
Reflected sometime
In water
Which became
Thin ice
Of fragile words
In whisper
Of the wind
Of leafage

Putrid breath

Away into the emptiness funeral ship is sealing
Forever…

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