Vempyre And The Ailing Orchid

A tale of feral decay and death being

predominant over life.

What gothic truths of feral ruin, when great

Churches burn and crumble. Foundations laid

In ground tainted with the harmonious weight

Of the casket on the soil. Where people prayed,

There lies etchèd scores of fickled woe, where sounds

Of pain emit. Above the mossy tombs (jade

And fading with age), stands an orphaned ground-

Fixed bough, unclothed and pallid, weeping low.

The wind caught its fragrant funeral gown

Once, but now the lifelessness - which aglow

With macabre vitamins had forced its way

Up through the earth which rotten flesh preserves - slow-

Climbs upwards, leading energy astray.

For this crypt was laced with fear and passion -

Crazed vempyric notions - that when the day

Did hide itself, this spirit would rise ashen.

  ©Daegal