The Emissary

The autumn's nigh as it comes rushing
Through wind, frost and fading light
To bring the scent of husk and carcass
Of long-faring and now absent life
Longing for the joy of days before sickness
Turned his countenance frail and white
The mist and leaves of the turning season
His only gate to the outer sites

Gone one day were the voice and breathing
That once brightly filled the room
And with them the hands and enigmas
That lit the world unbeknownst to doom
Bound to the depths by a twist of fate
No more games as the hands now decay
Crushing of bones, then stillness, silence
Grief and winter before its day

Fevered euphoria in its glowing eyes
Shivering at dusk, longing as it sighs
For the sun of days gone by

(Lead - A: Belfries Overlook The Impending Profanity)
(Lead - I: Tenebrious Omens In The Stained Glass)

On the thirtieth day it set away
Far beyond the bright-glassed panes
Chasing the great race of the stars
Up fields of frost and creek without end
Through greenest woods and burial fields
Gazing at the stones and marble names
Beneath slumberous streams of white
Toward the vastness of moonlit skies

On the night of November's third day
He wakes in silence to an unknown hush
To footsteps below and echoing sighs
To the stench of earth lain cheek by jowl
With things long hidden and decayed
Of digging deep, as night within night
A soul unearthed from far deep down
Its love and light skeletal but alive