Agalloch

Like snowfall, you cry a silent storm
Your tears paint rivers on this oaken wall. . .
Amber nectar, misery ichor
. . .cascading in streams of hallowed form
For each stain, a forsaken shadow
You are the lugubrious spirit
Etched in the oak of wonder
You are the sullen voice and silent storm
Each night I lay
Awakened by her shivering silent voice
From the shapes in the corridor walls.
It pierces the solitude like that of a distant scream
In the pitch-black forest of my delusion. . .
With each passing day, a deeper grave. . .
'Why did you leave me to die?'
'Why did you abandon me?'
'Why did you walk away and leave me bitterly yearning?'
Her haunting, contorted despair was etched into the wood's grain
Though fire rages within me, no fire burns fiercer than her desire